


Chasing Dreams

by bonyenne



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky Friendship, M/M, bigbangonice2018, ps the relationships are SUPER slow burn, rating PG-13 for Yuri swears but literally everything else is G
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 15:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 59,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonyenne/pseuds/bonyenne
Summary: The sparkling world of figure skating revolves around Living Legend Victor Nikiforov, but Yuri Plisetsky has always been the sort of person who changes the world without a second thought.Yuuri Katsuki is just content for the world to leave him alone.Some things are destined, even when we get a little lost along the way. When Yuuri quits figure skating earlier than intended, the world conspires to bring him back to where he's meant to be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Yuri Plisetsky, Age Five**

 

The first time he saw Yuuri Katsuki skate he was five years old and he knew he’d seen an angel. Deda had just set up the new television set after Mama broke the last one and ran out again and Yuri was wondering whether to ask if it was really an accident or not but then the screen flickered on and there he was flying through the air. Deda let out a whoop and maybe tried to give Yuri a high five like he usually did once he got the TV working but Yuri didn’t notice because his nose was pressed to the screen as though he could climb through and into the big arena beyond. In the distance he heard a chuckle and felt a big hand gently rest on the top of his head as the [music ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1INnRaYc6Cw)rose in a wave and then crashed over Yuri and Deda and the audience beyond, echoing through the air as the boy on the screen stopped his spin and threw his hands out for a big hug, aiming right at Yuri.

Deda chuckled again. “Blink, Yurochka, and let’s move back to the couch before you fall into the arena.”

Yuri turned to Deda with wide eyes and almost started asking if he could really do that when he saw the light in Deda’s eyes that said he was telling a joke, so he wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue instead, climbing into Deda’s lap and staring back at the screen. “Who is that, Deda? Is it real?”

Deda pulled out the newspaper and started flipping through for the TV channel page but the announcer answered before he found it.

_“Let’s hear it for Yuri’s first ever JGP appearance!”_

Yuri shouted out in surprise and flung his arms up, knocking the newspaper out of Deda’s hands as he scrambled to turn around. “Did you hear that? Did you HEAR that??”

Deda screwed up his nose, shaking his head at Yuri. “What was that, Yurochka? Did you say something?”

The announcer continued. _“His theme this year is childhood innocence, and as one of the youngest competitors in this cup, Yuri—”_

Yuri screeched again. “THERE! Deda, did you hear it that time??”

Deda looked at Yuri with confusion. “Yurochka, why do you care about the cars honking outside? I thought you were wrapped up in the skating.”

Yuri’s mouth dropped open in indignation. “Deda, the TV! Listen to the TV!”

_“That’s Yuri Katsuki of Japan, making his way to the kiss and cry for his scores now.”_

“See, did you hear it NOW?”

Deda nodded several times. “Yes, yes, this boy is waiting for scores because this is a competition.”

Yuri collapsed across Deda’s lap, pulling his hair and giving the biggest, loudest sigh he could. “No, Deda, his name! Did you hear his name??”

“Oh!!” Finally Deda was getting it. “If you wanted to know that, why didn’t you ask? His name is Mr. Katsuki!”

“DEDAAAAAA!”

Deda’s shoulders were shaking as he grinned down at Yuri. He suddenly realized that Deda was pulling tricks on him again and gnashed his teeth, climbing off his lap and to the other side of the couch. Deda tilted his head to the side and clucked at Yuri. “Oh, Yurochka, I was only playing. Won’t you cuddle with your Dedushka again? My old bones are getting cold.”

Yuri glared at the TV, slowly counting to five under his breath so that Deda would know he was angry and wasn’t going to come back just because he was asked, then he climbed back over into Deda’s lap. He wouldn’t want him to get sick from being cold or anything. By the time they got settled again, the other Yuri was getting up to walk away and the cameras were zooming around the arena to several other big kids.

_“That’s all for today folks, but tune in tomorrow to see Yuri and his competitors battle it out with their Free Style programs!”_

Yuri spent the rest of the night and the whole morning afterward asking when the show would come back on again. Eventually Deda turned on the computer and found an online coloring book of figure skaters for Yuri to play with while he waited. Yuri thought he must be the luckiest kid ever because it turned out the program Deda found had tiger stripe and leopard spot brushes, and he spent the afternoon making cool cat-themed figure skating pictures, getting so wrapped up in it that he barely even noticed when Mama came back to get a bag and then forgot to say goodbye before she left again for a show in St. Petersburg. At least she was quick about it this time. He didn’t want her breaking another TV before the other Yuri performed, or whining over the sound of the skating while he tried to watch.

Even though there were a bunch of other kids once the show came back on, Yuri only had eyes for his namesake, and dove toward the TV the minute the announcer announced his [arrival](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FQx4cEwKD5E). His costume was different this time but still beautiful and misty and almost looked like a cat, and Yuri wanted at least ten of them (maybe even one or two with tiger stripes and leopard spots). He spent the next two weeks twirling and jumping around the house until one weekend morning Deda bundled him up and walked him to a rink with real live lessons and everything.

Yuri grinned the whole way home, and promised Deda right then and there he was going to become better every day so he could make it to the top. Where else to meet his idol but as an equal?

 

**Yuri Plisetsky, Age Six**

 

The first time he saw Victor Nikiforov skate he was six years old and he wasn’t impressed. After months of begging to do more with his ice skating, Deda had bundled Yuri off to camp at the famous Yakov Feltsman’s rink to take real live novice classes like a professional skater would. Deda said that if Yuri liked it and Yakov thought he was ready he would maybe even get an apartment in St. Petersburg or something so that they could live there and Yuri could train even harder. Yuri thought that was the coolest thing ever but he made a mistake because he asked if Mama would be able to find them in St. Petersburg and Deda tried to hide it but went to another room and started crying when he thought Yuri couldn’t see.

Mama didn’t deserve someone as nice as Deda in her life. Yuri gritted his teeth and didn’t cry, but it was easy to be strong for Deda when he was around. It was much harder after Deda left, when everyone else started showing up with their mamas and papas, crying because they didn’t have to be strong and getting tossed in the air by their papas when they got too sad. Yuri clenched his teeth and snuck away to the ice. He didn’t need a papa and he didn’t need to be friends with any of those babies anyway. He just needed to prove himself, and that’s what he would do.

The ice rink was almost deserted except for two old guys. The gruff one looked like a normal old man like his Deda but the other one looked just like any of the papas outside except for his gray hair and the way he winced and clapped his hands over his ears every time the other man’s voice got too loud. Deda would never let another dedushka yell at him like that, what a weenie.

The gruff one finally threw his hands up in the air and gestured to the skinny one to go out on this ice, which he did with a few wobbly steps and another wince, shading his eyes from the bright lights over the rink. He looped the rink twice like they did when they were learning to skate, then started doing fancier stuff, which probably would have been pretty cool except after he started spinning in place he suddenly clapped a hand over his mouth and raced for the edge of the rink, leaning over the wall right by Yuri and barfing everywhere.

Yuri jumped back with a squeal and the skater clapped his hands over his ears, turning to look at him with wide eyes. Yuri scrunched up his nose and backed away as the man’s long messy hair fell over his shoulder and trailed in the orangish glop on the floor.

“You are the grossest old man I’ve ever seen.”

Maybe it wasn’t polite but Yuri wasn’t feeling polite just then. The man blinked at him.

“O- old man? …Yakov?”

The gruff one stomped around the corner and glared at them both.

“Get off the ice and clean that up, Vitya. You’re done for the day. You, boy. What’s your name? Shouldn’t you be with the rest of the children out front?”

Yuri glared at him.

“Why should I? They’re just crying like babies and I want to skate!” Yuri sneered at the other guy, adding a pointed: “and I won’t barf while doing it.”

The gruff one laughed, a big rumbly laugh like Deda’s, and the other one stared at Yuri with a shocked look on his face.

“I wager you’d be better than this hungover sop even if he didn’t vomit! Vitya, I want this clean by the time I bring the novices in.” He held out his hand to Yuri. “You’re coming with me. Are you ready to become the best?”

Yuri grinned.

“Better.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Yuri**

 

The first time he met Yuuri Katsuki he was thirteen years old and Yuuri was a dream of the past. He’d worked so hard to get to where Yuuri was but apparently that didn’t matter to the older skater, who’d dropped off the face of the earth three years prior with no warning or goodbye tour or anything. Yuri hadn’t quite torn up his old pictures yet, but they were safely tucked under his bed in Dedushka’s apartment, where none of the other junior skaters could find them and make fun of him anymore.

Yuri was at his first American competition in the JGP, at some dirty city right in the middle of the country with nothing interesting or exciting to sightsee whatsoever. Yakov was off schmoozing with sponsors and the only other Russians at the competition were a junior pair of total losers who just wanted to make out in the hotel while their coach wasn’t around. Yakov had told Yuri not to leave the hotel either but that was total crap so he’d ended up wandering the streets looking for anything even remotely interesting to do until he spotted a group of college students in tiger patterned jerseys leaving an ice rink and let himself in, planning on exploring the gift shop to see if he could find tiger themed skating accessories.

He’d wandered the halls of the rink for a while after the gift shop closed when he heard a faint swoosh of skates from the rink below, accompanied by a rush of [piano notes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z1Sx8Y86X8E) tumbling across each other out of the darkened hockey bench. There was a figure on the ice below - Yuri didn’t know how long he’d been there in the darkened rink, but now that he’d noticed him he couldn’t tear his eyes away. This must be what Georgi meant when he said a skater could make you feel emotions you didn’t even know you had. Not that he generally paid note to anything Georgi said, but somehow, watching this, Yuri knew without a doubt that it was both raining and sunny outside, and that he desperately wanted to reach out but couldn’t, stuck on the other side of an invisible wall.

Blindly, he reached out toward the other skater, not sure if he was trying to sooth the faceless man’s loneliness or his own, but knowing that he had to do something, anything to make it stop. He stumbled closer to the rink as the music grew faster and the skater flowed into a new stage of acceptance, tripping gracefully along the ice like he was splashing though a bubbling brook, alone but free. Or, at least, trying to convince himself he was. Yuri’s heart stabbed at itself and for the first time in months all he wanted was his Deda.

The music slowed again and the skater spun into a slow twist, the light from the hallway suddenly catching on his face and glittering along the single trail that tracked down his perfect cheekbones - part of a bone structure Yuri had memorized years earlier. He gasped and dove the rest of the way to the edge of the rink, gripping the half-wall like his legs couldn’t hold him up on their own. They probably couldn’t.

The music was on autoplay or something, because Yuuri Katsuki had already begun to flow into the next song when he finally noticed Yuri and jerked to a stop. He flushed bright red and scrubbed at his cheeks, already starting to spout something in English when Yuri jumped in over him.

“Are you coming back??” He scrambled to open the gate for Yuuri to step back through. “That was, that was, I have never cried watching someone skate before! What qualifiers are you skating in for GP?”

Yuuri blinked and slowly accepted a tissue from the box Yuri was now holding out.

“I think you might be mistaken. I’m not—”

“Yuuri Katsuki, right? You were the first skater I ever saw compete. I started to learn that because of you! The way you make the music come alive is still the best I have seen!”

Abruptly Yuri realized that he was babbling and dropped back down on his heels, hugging the tissue box to his chest. Yuuri wrung his hands and frowned. He didn’t seem like he was as excited about skating such a flawless routine as he should be. Tilting his head, Yuri spoke up again, slightly slower this time around.

“I mean, it was pretty good. Is it your freestyle, or an exhibition?”

“Um… It was nothing, I was just skating. I don’t compete anymore.”

“But…” Why was he practicing so hard then? The step sequences were all level four and he had the right spins and combos and everything. It was definitely not ‘just’ skating. “But why don’t you compete anymore? You are obvious—”

“I’m not good enough to compete.”

 _“Ty che, blyad?!”_ Yuri hissed.

Yuuri blinked at him and Yuri’s mouth worked, eyes wide. He hadn’t been expecting to feel so strongly about Yuuri’s response. Quickly, Yuuri took advantage of his shock and started to explain like Yuri was some dumb kid.

“I know it may seem… well, exciting, if you don’t know what you’re watching, but I’m just a dime a dozen in the world of figure skating. Things are different there.”

Before he knew what was happening the tissue box was flying at Katsuki’s face.

“Stop talking at me like I am some kid, Katsuki! I know more about professional figure skating than you ever will, you- you- _butt toothbrush!_ Don’t play with me who defended you to my friends; eto pizdets! Watch whose judgment you insult next time. Your talent isn’t dime a whatever but your yeblya attitude is less than a single dollar!”

He whirled and stomped away, shaking at the realization of what he’d just screamed at his idol. He sniffed and swiped at his face where apparently the tears had begun running again.

“Wait!”

Katsuki was running after him, a pair of glasses hanging haphazardly from his face.

“I’m sorry if I insulted you, I don’t understand—”

“Understand enough, Kat- _suka_ , blyad! I have waited for three years for you to show up again and I am done with this joke.”

What wasn’t there to understand about how insulting it was to imply Yuri didn’t have enough talent or eye to know what he was talking about? What wasn’t there to understand about how disrespectful is was to to all of his fans to basically throw his whole career away, like they were stupid for ever believing in him? Yuri didn’t even care how much he’d sworn at Katsuki - he only wished that he knew more words in English so Yuuri would know how angry he actually was with him.

Guess that was just another thing to work on in all his nonexistent spare time.

 

**Yuuri Katsuki**

 

Yuuri plopped down on the couch next to Phichit, dutifully reaching out when Phichit offered a hamster to stroke. Phichit plopped Arthur in his palm and raised an eyebrow at Yuuri as he brought him up to his forehead, stroking Arthur’s sides with both thumbs and trying to bury his face in his fur inasmuch as he was able.

“Bad day?”

“Phichit, are we still planning on watching the JGP tonight?”

Phichit gasped and jumped to his knees, turning a full ninety degrees as he landed so he was facing Yuuri and already grabbing his elbow with both hands. “Why, did you get asked on a date?! Are you ditching me for the sweet allure of newly blossoming love??”

“No, no, I’m still watching with you. Please, Phichit, like anyone would ask me on a date.” Yuuri rolled his eyes. Phichit should really know better than to ask that by now. All Yuuri usually got was sketchy guys in the college nightclub trying to buy his drinks and food and dance with him. Nobody actually ever wanted to date him.

“Anyway, are there any Russians competing here this weekend? I just got yelled at by some little blond kid about my skating and I’m pretty sure he swore at me in Russian?”

Laughing, Phichit swatted at Yuuri’s arm. “You would know Russian when you hear it, future Mr. Nikiforov!” He cocked his head to the side and stared into space for a few seconds. “Hmm…. I think so? There’s this new kid who’s supposed to be really promising. I’m pretty sure he actually trains with Yakov Feltsman too!”

Yuuri snorted. “I doubt he trains at Victor Nikiforov’s rink considering he thought I was good, but keep an eye out tomorrow anyway. He was…” Yuuri trailed off.

He had been truly upset with Yuuri. Like he felt personally betrayed by him retiring, which was ridiculous, considering Yuuri never had any fans outside the few in Japan.

Hadn’t he?

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Yuuri**

 

Yuuri burst out of the stairwell like he was being chased, frantically dialing Phichit as he ducked into the first empty room he noticed. Phichit didn’t answer. He started pacing in circles, dialing again. If he was in class it’d be on silent anyway, but maybe he just hadn’t heard?? Finally the phone clicked and he dove right in, forgoing greetings entirely.

“Phichit, that French guy I vomited on last year at Skate America is here what do I do??”

Always ready to handle Yuuri’s various quirks, Phichit didn’t even pause or question him at all before diving right into the conversation with a squeal. “Wait, the one you almost made out with, but then accidentally stole his shoes instead? Who kind of looks like he could be Victor Nikiforov’s less hot cousin?”

“YES!” Yuuri winced at the volume of his response, quickly peeking out of the room to see if anyone had heard. The hallway was still relatively dark and empty. He backed silently into the room again, continuing in a whisper anyway. “I think he’s a coach? For one of the juniors??? They were wearing matching jackets and _loitering next to my door!”_

“Ooo that’s rough. Did he recognize you? Omg does he want to go clubbing with you again?? Has he developed some weird vomit thing????”

“Gross, Phichit!”

“What?? A man of your caliber can easily give people fetishes, I’m just saying.”

“Phichit! This is no time for jokes!! Besides, he didn’t see me, I ducked into the stairwell.”

A snort came across the line, hastily muffled.

“I’m rolling my eyes at you, Yuuri. You are a strong, attractive man who can so inspire dirty thoughts, and you should have expected running into someone you remembered when you decided to go to a local competition.”

“No I couldn’t! It’s a junior competition!!”

“Yuuri, you literally went to it because a junior you’ve met is competing and you wanted to see him skate in person.”

“Phichit!! Help, please!!”

“…Are you still in the stairwell?”

Yuuri grimaced. “No, I kept going. They’re all athletes, what if they eventually decided to use it? I’m hiding on the convention floor now, in an empty conference room.”

“Really? Do you think they’re still there?”

“They seemed pretty comfortable hanging out in the hallway… someone got off the elevator right when I ducked away and I heard them all start talking.”

“Hmm…” Phichit clicked his tongue a few times as shouts and laughter rang out in the background. “Yeah, you’re in a pickle. You can’t go back yet if there’s any chance of running into him again, but you can’t just sit in that room and work yourself up either.”

“I knooooowww,” Yuuri softly wailed, slumping against the wall and letting himself slide to the floor. Phichit continued, unhindered.

“And as much as I love you, Yuuri, I’m kind of busy right now. The Lacrosse team is hosting Kegs and Eggs right now - did you know it’s Hot Chocolate’s _birthday?”_

A laugh bubbled out of Yuuri’s chest unbidden, loosening up some of the tightness lodged in there. “Do you even know his name yet? Wait, it’s Tuesday morning there - why aren’t you getting ready for class?”

“It’s spring break and I don’t need to know his name; by the end of the day he’ll know mine.” Phichit replied archly. “Okay, so here’s what you’re going to do: find a conference room with empty space and put on some music. Is your phone charged?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You obviously can’t go down to the ice because competitors, but you can try dancing it out for a few hours. It should help exhaust you and keep you from fixating on things, and as a bonus they’ll hopefully all be asleep or something by the time you go back up.”

Yuuri nodded, then caught himself and agreed verbally. Dancing and skating had always been his main methods of coping, and the room he was in now had a huge open space with no chairs set up or anything. Plus, the hotel was fully booked with people here for skating, so the chances of staff coming by to set up the room for any sort of actual meeting were minimal considering they didn’t have space to host a conference on top of the competition. Satisfied that he’d calmed down, Phichit said his farewells and went off to pursue the latest impossible target, who would invariably end up forgotten entirely in a few weeks or somehow great friends with him, only to turn around and pine back once it was too late. Yuuri already felt a smile coming back as he queued up his music. All luck to Hot Chocolate (and to Phichit, that one of these days it would finally work out)!

 

**Yakov Feltsman**

 

Sometimes Yakov wondered what had happened to the determined yet pliant child he’d gotten to work with before Yuri started competing. Then again, the nature of competitions could change you, and he’d known that for years - look at Lilia. Grimacing, he prepared for the confrontation (everything was a confrontation nowadays).

“Again, and this time do what I told you with the hands.”

“I TOLD YOU I _AM_ DOING IT!”

“No,” Yakov said, thanking heaven for granting him infinite patience (and cursing it for giving him the calling to coach difficult teens for the rest of his life), “you are performing the steps to music. You are not feeling the music and you are not flowing the way you should.”

“Who cares,” Yuri bit out, gliding back to the center of the ice, “the footwork is all correct and I have the strongest technical ability of any other junior skater.”

Yakov sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Technically sound is not the same as musically beautiful. You need to feel the flow in your body, your limbs, your face. Down to every twitch of the finger and brush of an eyelash.”

 

**Yuri**

 

Yuri stomped through the lobby of the hotel, clearing his throat. The air was too dry in Japan to practice this hard, especially right before Junior Worlds. He’d been perfectly fine before working with Yakov for a few hours. Not that you could call it much of a practice, what with all the pauses to debate the routine with Yakov. It wasn’t Yuri’s fault Yakov was suddenly being ridiculously picky. Finger twitches? Eyelash curls? Was his head somewhere in fairyland?? How was that even supposed to work. Twitch where??? As long as his skating was perfect and his face matched the general feel of the music, wasn’t that right?

He sneered at a portrait of some old man on the wall by the elevator. “What the fuck does he mean by ‘not a record breaking routine’? He straight up admitted that the gold medal is as good as mine!”

A couple of locals turned to stare at him and he made a face back at them. People needed to learn to mind their own business. The portrait of the old man was still glaring down at him. It reminded him of Yakov, if he were Asian. He made a face at it as the elevator doors opened.

“And how am I supposed to know what to do when all he does is describe ridiculous poses and then spout bullshit about musicality??”

He squinted at some other nosy weirdos (really, why were they still walking toward him??) and punched the door close button. They made it anyway and pushed the button for his floor before he could get to it. He gritted his teeth and hit a random button beneath it. No way was he showing a bunch of elderly stalkers the way to his room.

The old lady glanced at her husband and clutched her purse, shifting away from Yuri. He curled his lip at her and leaned away from her as well. Baba Yaga probably had some fucking cat ears hidden in there or something. Before he knew it she’d probably be draping herself all over him in an excess of emotion. Yakov would be proud of her, the old feelings-whore. He clenched his teeth. “Not that emotions even _fucking matter_ when it’s about _fucking determination.”_

The lady jumped and he glared at her.

The door opened.

Apparently he’d chosen some sort of business floor - all of the rooms had names or double doors instead of normal room numbers. Yuri stalked out, walking with purpose until the doors closed behind him and safely carried his stupid fans away. He briefly paused by the entrance to the stairs but after a moment’s thought decided to explore some more for a bit, instead of risking accidentally timing it just wrong with the elevator. Besides, he was sharing a room with Yakov and who wanted to see Mr. “just create a harmonious discord because of course you know what that means” again so soon?

He rubbed his throat and swallowed a few times. It felt hoarse. Great, now he was coming down with something. Probably because of those horrible old people breathing all over him - he was never using an elevator again. Honey or tea or whatever really would be nice right about now, not that he was willing to go back to the room to get any.

Yuri had better quads than any of the juniors and he was already planning on going to seniors next year where he’d clearly need them to be relevant at all, so why wouldn’t Yakov just let him do them now?? If he wanted a record breaking routine, that was clearly the easiest way to get there - it should be a simple choice. Problem solved!

He snarled and kicked a potted plant, then kicked it again when the heavy base stubbornly refused to even wobble. There was literally nothing in this hallway; worst adventure ever. He couldn’t even hear any sign of people on this floor except for some lame background music left on by some meeting or another coming from one of the rooms on the left. Maybe he should just go up to the room after all.

The next song started up, the particular chords taking him aback. Pausing in front of the room, he glanced around and then shrugged, reaching for the handle. If it was playing his FS song already, maybe one more try at figuring out the musicality wouldn’t hurt… he pushed open the door, freezing halfway through the motion as his eyes focused on the scene beyond.

 

 

The first time he'd seen Yuuri Katsuki skate he thought he'd seen an angel. The first time he met him, his angel fell.

Now, as the dancer before him fluttered out of the crossover and reached toward the lights, sparkles from the chandelier glittering across a familiar face atop a full-body expression that could only be described as pure determination, Yuri saw his angel rise again.

His vision began spotting as Yuuri leapt into the first triple and Yuri swayed, grabbing the door frame for balance and finally remembering to take his first breath since entering the room. This was... Yuri lifted his chin along with Yuuri, clenching his fist in the fabric of his shirt as Yuuri took it one step further, his whole body following behind his chin and swaying into the turn, longing to stay even as he twirled away, dragging behind the music for a heartbeat in a way that somehow embodied an inability to let go of what he was chasing, instead of just falling behind the beat like Yuri always thought when Yakov tried to describe it.

This was Yuri's routine.

No... the scene blurred before his eyes and Yuri swallowed several times, blinking rapidly. This was a routine Yuri hadn't even known existed - the one he should be reaching for daily. The one he fell utterly short of. If this was the routine that Yakov saw behind Yuri's, then it was no wonder he wasn't satisfied. How could you ever be satisfied after seeing this?

And his competition was in less than 48 hours.

 


	4. Chapter 4

** Yakov **

 

Yuri grabbed Yakov’s hands, uncharacteristically serious and respectful. 

“Coach, I need to talk to you after this. Please watch me perform and consider it when we discuss.”

Yakov suspected he already knew what Yuri wanted to talk about, considering the subtle changes in his short program yesterday. They hadn’t had any significant ice time since the disastrous practice Tuesday, but Yuri also wasn’t showing the usual signs of anger and avoidance; rather, he’d returned later that evening with a light in his eye and a bounce in his step… and a bone-deep exhaustion that led to him collapsing in bed and not moving a muscle until the next morning. 

Luckily, he’d managed to recoup the energy in time for the short program, including its interesting little additions. Yakov was experienced enough to know that no skater could come up with so many new depths to his musical expression on his own, especially considering that was Yuri’s main struggle. He was talented enough to learn new elements, but Yakov didn’t think he was willing or able enough to get through those blocks on his own. 

Still, he’d shockingly shelved the quads, though that didn’t discount the possibility of him just saving them for today. Which if he was being true with himself was another point in favor of what he suspected. Yakov cleared his throat, banishing the thought from his mind and squeezing Yuri’s hands. If Yuri really wanted this he was going to have to fight to convince him it was the right decision, and if this was going to be a goodbye it had better be a good one.

“Get out there and skate, boy! We’ll talk later.”

Yuri grinned and nodded, skating to the center of the ice. 

When the music started it was a completely different boy on the ice than anything Yakov had ever seen before. This was a Yuri taking himself and his routine more seriously than anything before - not just pushing for higher technical difficulty levels. Yuri was truly living and appreciating the routine, finally bringing it back from the figure jumping he’d always tried to pass off as figure skating once he learned how good he was at them.

Yakov cleared his throat again, dashing a knuckle at his eyes. Somehow, in the span of two days, his most promising young skater had found himself a new coach. Watching the result, his heart soared… and slowly grew heavy. This was a Yuri that Yakov hadn’t been able to pull out, a Yuri who had taken two days of coaching and finally learned the last few elements they’d been trying to add to his PCS for months now. 

This was a Yuri who clearly needed to continue his new arrangements to continue growing, and if he didn’t bring it up, Yakov would. 

Yuri burst into flight on his final jump and Yakov laughed, wiping at the edge of his eye when he landed and the jump remained a triple. 

Looked like the boy was maturing after all.

 

—

 

Not many people remembered it, but Celestino Cialdini had actually trained under Yakov Feltsman for a brief period of time during his skating career. For one season only - Celestino’s final one before an injury put him out of the game, but Yakov had been a dedicated mentor during that year as well as after he retired. They’d become penpals when Celestino moved home to recover, and later Celestino would point to Yakov as a large part of why he’d gone into coaching. Yakov would point to Celestino as a large part of why he’d gotten an email address, something he’d never quite forgiven him for, though he was sure all of his skaters and their families appreciated it. 

Anyway, they’d gotten into the habit, years down the line, of grabbing a drink together at any competitions they were both at, and exchanging stories about their students, both promising and difficult, and how none of them ever seemed to remember that they’d been young once too (even though Yakov always rolled his eyes at those stories - Celestino was still young in his eyes).

And so it turned out that Yakov had already heard of Yuuri Katsuki when Yuri came to him gushing after the Junior World Championships. Though he didn’t remember exactly why he knew the name, he seemed to recall something strange about the situation, something Celestino had regretted about how he’d handled it, and he wasn’t above calling him up to get the full story.

Of course, Celestino wasn’t above extracting a promise of his own in return. 

  



	5. Chapter 5

**Mila Babicheva**

 

“And where are you going?”

Mila crossed her arms and leaned back against the door of the locker room. Yuri swore, jerking his pants the rest of the way up and ducking behind his locker door. She rolled her eyes. Like there was anything to hide, in this scene. She’d seen it all before. He opened his mouth, sputtering, and she cut in before he could go off on some misguided tirade.

“Relax, your underwear is like, the least embarrassing of the boys. Georgi’s all have bedazzled sayings on them, it’s horrifying. So?”

“So what??”

She jerked a chin at the full bag next to him and the single shirt left in his locker, which he was scrambling to grab and put on now.

“So what has you packing up the _entire_ contents of your locker for the first time since you got it? You’ve been sneaking around with Yakov ever since you got back, it’s weird.”

Weird didn’t even cover it. Yakov hadn’t been shouting at Yuri nearly as much and she’d caught him twice - _twice_ \- staring at Yuri with the same expression as her babushka had when watching her cousin Ivan at his wedding last summer, right before bursting into tears and babbling how proud she was and how he must learn to take care of himself and his new wife now.

A terrible thought struck her and she prowled forward, examining his face. Yuri glanced around for a mirror, scrubbing at his nose and quickly reddening cheeks. After a moment she laughed. False alarm, he was definitely still a virgin.

 _“I’m_ weird?? Who’s the one standing in the boy’s room laughing for no reason??”

He nudged his bag behind him and she focused in again. Yuri emptying his locker in the middle of the day: a boy who never left practice this early, and a locker that was literally never empty - she borrowed extra clothes and chapstick from it all the time. That, paired with Yakov’s behavior…

Mila gasped.

“You’ve found a new coach!”

Yuri blushed, hunching his shoulders and crossing his arms in front of him before realizing how he looked and lifting his chin, drawing himself up straight. Mila whistled.

“How’d you manage _that?”_

Yuri scuffed his foot. “I met someone in Japan. He’s… He… Yakov agrees that it’s a good option for me! We’re trying it out on a conditional basis.”

Wow. Mila’s jaw dropped. Yakov was actually letting Yuri leave? Yuri Plisetsky, his most promising men’s skater, the Russian Fairy, Yakov’s Rising Star? How on earth had he managed that?? Blackmail?? Yuri seemed to catch the direction of her thoughts and frowned.

“Nothing illegal if that’s what you’re thinking. We agree that he has a fitting perspective on some of the areas I have most opportunity for growth!”

Mila snorted. So Yakov was already coaching Yuri on how to spin this for the press, huh. Like Yuri would ever use words like opportunity for growth on his own, that would be like admitting he was bad at something.

But seriously though, changing coaches in his debut year, immediately after breaking the junior world record. Totally wild. She’d be inclined to think they’d been planning it for a while, but Yuri hadn’t exactly been struggling before that either. Plus, she’d never noticed any behavior changes or rumors before now, even when listening in on the rink landline.

So why was Yuri packing now?

She narrowed her eyes at him. “How much time do we have to plan the going away party?”

Yuri frowned. “Going away party? Why would we do that? You’re pretty much my only friend here.”

…He did kind of have a point. The other skaters anywhere close to hers or Yuri’s age were super lame, but still!

“Georgi and Victor kind of like you! We could do a movie night or something - I’ve still never seen any of those skater movies.”

“What, Ice Prince? The Mighty Pucks? It Figures? I know you’ve seen Toepick, we watched it last week before I left.”

“Everyone’s seen Ice Prince, remember? Victor dragged us to opening night to watch his cameo. And wasn’t he also in It Figures?”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Like he would ever let us forget. Why do you think I refused to watch it?”

“HAH!” Mila stalked forward, pointing menacingly. “So you admit it, you ARE friends. Friends enough to have inside jokes about movies, at least. Also, the Mighty Pucks movies are like Georgi’s favorite non-romances of all time, I’ve seen them at least three times. I mean that Thai series. The King and the Skater? The Skater and the King?”

“The King and the Skater.”

“Great!” Mila grinned, beginning the checklist of sweet treats and decorations in her head. “So we’ll plan on Friday night? I think Georgi has the movies so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Yuri didn’t answer.

Caught up in the list, which had expanded to include decorations made from items from his wardrobe which she’d stolen over the years, Mila didn’t notice right away. Wrapping her arm around Yuri’s shoulders, she was about to start leading him out when she finally noticed him tensing. She stepped back and peered down at him. He wouldn’t meet her eye.

Oh no.

“…Thursday, then? When are you leaving again?”

Yuri shrunk about three sizes.

“I didn’t expect you to want to actually do anything before I left…”

“Yuri. When. Are you. Leaving?”

He twisted his fingers in his hair, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “…Tomorrow morning.”

 

 

**Victor Nikiforov**

 

“Where’s Yuri?”

Georgi shrugged and leaned over his leg. “Don’t ask me, that kid literally never talks to me. I’m not sure he even knows my name.”

“Nonsense!” Mila glided up to them. “He likes you, he’s just serious about potential competitors.”

“Potential competitors he calls Loser?”

Victor laughed. “It’s a nickname, Georgi! We give those to people we like. Besides, he calls me old man, that’s much worse.”

Georgi rolled his eyes at Victor, who looked to Mila for backup, who shrugged.

“He just calls me Mila. Anyway, you haven’t _heard?”_

“About his record? Yes, what’s that got to do with this?”

Of course he’d heard about Yuri’s world record - he’d been watching with baited breath from whatever overdone ad he’d been modeling for this time as Yuri finally met every expectation Victor had for him, every hope he’d pinned on him, and smashed directly through them all, leaving glittering shards behind on the ice as he painted his name across the sky in shining lights. It was the moment he’d been waiting for, the final confirmation that Yuri had the potential, the real, tangible potential to give him a challenge this year.

It was the validation, nearly too late, that Victor had made the right choice in delaying his retirement, no matter how dull everything had gotten recently.

“Yuri’s going to Japan,” Mila answered.

“Wasn’t he just there? Did he forget something?”

Mila shook her head, lips tight. “His sanity, maybe. He’s going to Japan. Like, for good. He’s leaving Yakov and going to Japan to compete under some guy he met at the JWC.”

Victor dropped his water. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. He should really grab the water before it spilled everywhere and Yakov got mad at him. Japan was surrounded by water, wasn’t it? Would Yakov be mad at that?

“He did _what???”_

Georgi’s foot slammed back to the ice and he grabbed at the wall for balance as he slipped on Victor’s puddle.

Lost in shock, Victor barely noticed when the resulting bangs echoed throughout the arena. People in Japan didn’t like loudness either, right? Yuri was too loud for that, they wouldn’t like him either. He stuck out too much, like the nail from the saying. They would hammer him down and smooth over everything that made him unique, just to force him to fit in.

And Russia - Russia wouldn’t like Yuri for leaving Yakov and Victor behind at the the precipice of his career. This disloyalty could hurt his track for good, what with judges’ bias and all. And what about his coach? Would his coach know what was right for Yuri and how to argue with the ISU on his behalf?

Oh god, what if Yuri didn’t even get accepted to two GP qualifiers? Was Victor supposed to wait another year?

Mila was talking. Victor pushed his hair behind his ear with a shaking hand. He couldn’t seem to make out the words. They were all distorted somehow.

“…to Osaka tomorrow morning.”

He clutched at the rail and leaned forward.

_“What’s happening tomorrow morning???”_

Mila stared at him. “He’s leaving. Yuri’s getting on a plane and going away for good first thing tomorrow morn—”

“Wait!!!”

Their shouts echoed behind him as Victor ran away.

 

—

 

“Is it true??”

Yakov grunted and turned away, cupping his free hand around the phone receiver.

“Yuri is leaving Russia, Yakov?” Victor followed Yakov around the turn and gripped his forearm, stopping him from spinning away again. “Is this true?”

Yakov nodded, shaking Victor’s hand free and waving him off. “No, I’m still here, keep going - just a little interference.”

“But why?” Victor’s voice got a little loud maybe but could you blame him? Apparently, you could. Yakov cupped his hand over the microphone and pulled the phone to his chest, grabbing Victor by the shoulder and forcibly directing him toward the door.

“OUT, boy; this is important! Yes he’s leaving and you should too if you don’t want to be stuck doing compulsory figures for the next month!”

 

—

 

 **Christophe:** c tru y leavng flzmn?

 **Victor:** _(…)_

**Victor:**

**Victor:** _(…)_

**Victor:**

**Victor:** _(…)_

 **Christophe:** a tt

 

 

Victor’s computer started jingling before he even managed to text Christophe back. He dove over Makkachin to answer. Soon Chris’s face filled the screen, eyebrows high over the top rim of his glasses.

“Georgi is flipping out, mon cheri. I haven’t even officially met the boy and I’m floored - Yakov Feltsman is one of the best in the business. Besides, I thought he idolized you!”

Victor shook his head, grabbing at his hair and pulling it out to each side before realizing what he was doing and jerking his hands away, fisting them in his lap. All he had besides skating was his beauty - didn’t need to ruin that now, too.

“I can’t understand what’s going on, Christophe. Does he really hate Yakov that much? Or is it something I did? Should I have just retired earlier if he wasn’t even going to care about competing with me?”

Chris’s cat yowled and jumped out of his lap. His face suddenly filled the screen, eyes darting across Victor’s features. “Ami, are you _retiring?”_

Victor blanched, scrambling around for another subject. He wasn’t ready to face questions about that.

“That’s not the point. If he wanted a new coach that badly, why didn’t he ask me?"

“Wait, did you offer to coach him?”

He hadn’t ever really thought about it, but now that he’d mentioned it he couldn’t help but be irritated that Yuri hadn’t even asked. What was so special about this other guy that he was worth dropping everything in the world just to run off and muck around for a year and maybe do well and maybe not? If Yuri was going to do that he could have at least given Victor some advanced warning, some chance to prepare and change with him.

Now what was he supposed to do? Just wait it out another year? Spend another year bouncing between colorless routines and advertisements that all ran together into one big blur while he waited on Yuri to maybe decide to take him seriously and maybe not?

Makka shoved her face in his lap and he almost shoved her away before realizing what he was doing and throwing his arms around her in horror, burying his face in her side.

“Victor, are you alright? Don’t do something stupid just because Yuri is. It’s not a competition. Well, it is, but… eugh.”

But it was a competition though, wasn’t it? Everything was in this world, even when you just wanted to figure out how to have fun again, but when you tried to do that you still got compared to everyone else including yourself, and of course if the fun part was competing you could just throw it out the window if you wanted a real challenge. Much like Yuri apparently was doing now.

Victor responded into Makka’s fur, uncaring of whether Chris could even make out the exact words. “Well if he wants to be competitive with us this year then he needs to be training with the best coach he can find! Not some third-class former skater who’s not even in the first couple of search results for his name online!”

Not that Victor had searched. Much. Christophe tilted his head to the side, resting his chin on his folded arms.

“You don’t think that this coach will be good enough?”

“Of course he won’t be good enough,” Victor spat, finally looking at the computer again. “He’s never coached a day in his life and he hasn’t set foot on an ice rink in years as far as I can tell. If that upstart thinks he can steal Yuri’s future for his 10 minutes of fame then he’s an idiot for not taking me seriously. This is just some stupid teenage rebellion and Yuri is going to regret it the minute he gets to Japan.”

Chris paused, considering. “Isn’t that Yuri’s problem though, to make his own choices and learn to deal with the consequences?”

“NOT WHEN THEY AFFECT THE REST OF US!”

Victor chucked the nearest thing at hand across the room. It turned out to be his pillow and he seethed at the fact that it wasn’t anything breakable. If his heart was going to break this season then everything else might as well too. Makka bounded off to collect it.

“Am I just some bystander he takes for granted? ‘Oh I’ll just run along and goof around for a year until I figure out how to grow up so _screw_ everyone else in the meantime.’ Maybe I’m NOT going to wait around for him! Maybe I want the competition now, while I’m still here!”

Makkachin returned and Victor sat back, crossing his arms and refusing to take the pillow back. _“Maybe,_ if nobody wants to even _try_ to beat me, then I should just leave before I’m disappointed yet _again.”_

“Watch who you talk to like that, ma couille. Some of us take this very seriously, even if we lack the talent of you Russians.”

The last remains of Victor’s heart pinched as he ran back through everything he’d just said to Christophe. He forced a smile and a laugh to his face.

“I mean of course you are great competition, I just meant that Yuri won’t keep up with any of us if he doesn’t take us seriously! It’s just a little confusing to me because I thought he wanted to be the best he could be!”

“Victor.” Chris’s voice was flat. “I’ve seen your fake smile. You can stop now.”

Could he stop? Maybe, but Victor had always been one to really live his act, and he was getting carried away.

“And you know I’m just worried for him because he’s really just a child still and he doesn’t know what kind of weight his decisions have.”

“Victor.”

“And I don’t want him to look back at this moment and regret his entire life down the line because he got carried away and lost his groove and couldn’t get it back. This isn’t 16 Again, he doesn’t get second chances!”

“…16 Again, Victor? Somehow I don’t think—”

Victor gasped.

“Or injured by a coach who doesn’t understand growing bodies! Chris, he needs me to save him!”

“Oh, no. No, Victor. What are you doing? Stop typing!”

Christophe’s voice was getting increasingly more frantic in the background but Victor’s brain continued along that line, getting more and more convinced he needed to do something, anything. His hands couldn’t stop clenching and unclenching themselves as his feet started to jiggle. Maybe this coach wouldn’t go so far as to actually injure Yuri, but teenager’s brains weren’t done growing - he’d learned that on the set of Ice Prince. Yuri probably didn’t even know all of the consequences that could arise from his actions, all the things that this could ruin besides his career, and if he did, well he needed a strong influence helping to guide his life back from that brink anyway. Where was he going again?

Mila’s response to his hastily-flung text was almost instantaneous, though nearly lost among all of the texts from Christophe, who was still squawking from his minimized window.

Finally he finished and jumped up to begin packing. “Sorry, Chris, but I’m going to have to cut this short. Either I’ll be back in two weeks with Yuri or I’m quitting and coaching him myself.”

“…which would also lead to him coming back with you.”

“Either way, ta ta!”

He blew another fake kiss at the camera and ran to pack a bag, ignoring the indignant “I’m still here!” following him out of the room.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Uproar**

 

 

 **Mila:** yuuri katsuki????

 **Phichit:** milaaaa!! what’s this about my boi?

 **Mila:** coach???????????

 **Phichit:** last I heard lil yuri wanted yes but my yuuri said no

 **Mila:** no since when? ice fairys flyin out today?????

 **Phichit:** omg

 **Phichit:** I am like 800% sure yuuri doesn’t know this

 

-

 

 **Phichit:** we need to talk

 **Phichit:** yuuri

 **Phichit:** Yuuri.

 **Phichit:** call me ANYTIME

 

-

 

 **Sara:** Did Plisetsky really dump Yakov Feltsman???

 **Mila:** shouda seen victors reaction

 **Sara:** Oddio…

 **Mila:** wait how do u know already??

 **Sara:** I have my sources.

 **Mila:** oh

 **Mila:** georgi

 

-

 

 **Leo:** Yuuri is such a nice guy though

 **Guang Hong:** is he really coaching Yuri?

 **Phichit:** looks like it!

 **Leo:** poor kid

 **Guang Hong:** who, Yuri?

 **Leo:** no

 **Leo:** Yuuri

 **Leo:** duh

 **Phichit:** lollll

 **Phichit:** our dear sweet child

 

-

 

 **Sara:** You know the coach guy, right? Yuuri something?

 **Phichit:** if you mean the most amazing thing to happen to my short LYFE

 **Phichit:** then yes

 **Phichit:** …topped only by whatever goes down this weekend

 **Phichit:** poor bby

 

-

 

 **????(1):** is this real?

 **Phichit:** who dis

 **Phichit:** yeppp btw

 **????(1):** wow what a terrible idea

 **Phichit:** oh you must be JJ

 

-

 

 **????(2):** TELL EME EVERYTHIGN

 **Phichit:** YUURI IS A GOD AMONG MEN

 **Phichit:** who dis tho?

 

-

 

 **????(3):** X_X

 **Phichit:** chill dude

 **Phichit:** lil yuri will be fine

 **????(3):** ???

 **????(3):** o_O

 **Phichit:** oh

 **Phichit:** ohhh

 **Phichit:** yea no worries I do not want to date your sister

 **Phichit:** that is def not why she’s texting me

 

-

 

 **????(4):** IS THIS PHICHIT CHULANONT?

 **????(4):** IS KATSUKI

 **????(4):** YUURIREALLY COACHING

 **Phichit:** YES

 **Phichit:** YES

 **????(4):** YURI PLISETSKY??

 **Phichit:** …

 **Phichit:** YES

 

-

 

 **Phichit** : who are these people

 **Sara** : Please, I only gave it to a few people.

 **Sara** : You wanted everyone’s numbers anyway, Mr. FOMO.

 **Phichit** : burn

 **Phichit** : #PSYCHOanalyze me

 **Phichit** : tru tho

 **Sara** : Honestly can’t believe you didn’t have them already.

 **Phichit** : not my fault your friends are old

 **Phichit** : I’m only hip to the youths

 **Phichit** : dat instagram life

 **Phichit** : seriously though I need them in my contacts list

 

-

 

 **????(5):** vctrs ltrly dyng

 **Phichit:** #SLAYYY

 **????(5):** snif

 **????(5):** gn tk out 1 me tho

 **????(5):** help

 **????(5):** stp

 **Phichit:** dude

 **Phichit:** you are

 **Phichit:** SO

 **Phichit:** bad at texting

 **Phichit:** what did vowels ever do to you?

 **????(5):** svpppp

 **Phichit:** …

 **Phichit:** George Poppy Bitch?

 **Phichit:** *POPOVICH

 **Phichit:** **GEORGI

 **????(5):** ptdr

 **????(5):** mdrmdrmdrmdr

 **????(5):** crs g

 **Christophe:** 1 sc chgng gs nm 2 poppy bitch

 **Phichit:** lol

 **Christophe:** ok srsly tho

 **Christophe:** vs flyin 2 jpn rn

 **Christophe:** w up w yk?

 **Phichit:** I reiterate

 **Phichit:** what did vowels ever do to you?

 **Phichit:** wait

 **Phichit:** _(…)_

 

-

 

 **Phichit:** YUURI

 **Phichit:** upgrading ANYTIME to ASAP

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Yuri**

 

When Yuri got off the plane he was horrified to find Victor waiting at the gate with one of his gross fake press grins and about thirty swooning fans surrounding him. His heart jumped into his throat for a split second as his mind went straight to assuming the plane had turned around mid-flight and gone back to Russia and maybe Yakov had seen around his scheme and sent Victor to collect him, but when he looked around all the signs were definitely in Japanese. He stalked up to Victor, dropping his bag on the older man’s toes and stabbing a finger at his chest.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

Victor, of course, just grinned back with that stupid ‘I’m being clever’ expression he was so fond of. “Don’t you know? Concord gets you there in half the time!”

Yuri jerked his head back and snapped his teeth shut on his prepared response, feeling a bit like he was still standing on the moving plane. Maybe he wasn’t in Japan yet after all, and he was still sleeping on his plane. A dream, yes, that would explain everything. Like Victor’s unexpected presence. And the fact that he wasn’t even speaking Russian.

No… he shook his head. Victor was just unpredictable enough to do all of this. And as a rule Yuri tended not to let himself dream about him unless he was stomping him to the ground on the way up to the podium to receive his gold medal.

"Why are you talking to me in English? The fuck is a Concord?"

"It's a quote, just go with it.” Victor picked up Yuri’s bag and began walking toward the signs indicating Baggage Claim. “Why are you so concerned about my English? Are you struggling to understand? You know if you decide to stay here you're going to have to use it daily."

"My English is better than yours, idiot, they have it in school now. Not everyone is so old that they had to learn by watching shitty foreign teen movies online."

“I’d be more convinced if you actually attended school on the regular.”

“Shut up,” Yuri muttered, grabbing his bag back and stalking ahead. “And stop following me!”

“Too late!” Victor responded in a sing-song voice. “My flight doesn’t leave for another two weeks; you’re stuck with me until then. Someone needs to make sure you don’t get abducted while wandering alone in a foreign country.”

“What the hell are you talking about, you weirdo?? I’ve been wandering alone at every competition for literally the last three years.” Yuri started walking down the escalator, shoving past a couple of businessmen and a family and ignoring Victor’s indignant squawk behind as he tried to catch up. “And you’re not following me to Hasetsu!”

 

—

 

Victor followed Yuri to Hasetsu.

In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have mentioned that was where he was going. On the other hand, Victor probably would have found him anyway, and at least this way Yuri could make him pay for everything.

It still didn’t make up for having to deal with Victor though. Seriously, did he EVER stop talking?? Yuri slid down further in his seat, rescuing his headphones from Makkachin’s slobber. Potya hissed from inside her carrier and Yuri’s lips curled up in solidarity as the taxi pulled up in front of a traditional Japanese hotel. By the time Victor finished paying the driver and collecting his bags Yuri was already standing on the stoop pounding at the door.

No one answered.

Victor joined him at the door and Yuri shoved his shoulder in front of him, knocking again.

“Well, guess nobody’s home—” Victor had just started to turn around when the door opened to reveal Yuuri Katsuki, who blinked twice and then closed the door in their faces.

Yuri choked on his spit and was just about to open his mouth and start shouting when Yuuri opened the door again, looked at Yuri, opened his mouth, looked at Victor, and shut the door. Victor bared his teeth in a thin approximation of a smile.

“Looks like you’re not as welcome as you thought. I guess it’s time to think about going home!”

“Your flight doesn’t leave for two more weeks you idiot, you told me so yourself,” Yuri snarled, pounding on the door, “but feel free to leave anytime.” He threw in a couple of kicks in for good measure and raised his voice. “GET YOUR COWARDLY ASS OUT HERE AND LEARN TO DO SOMETHING WORTHWHILE WITH YOUR LIFE!”

The door opened again and a middle-aged Japanese woman smiled out at Yuri. He stumbled backwards, reclaiming his foot right before it would have connected with her shin. Yuuri was still standing just to the side of the door with his arm half-raised toward the handle.

“Welcome to Yuu-topia Katsuki! Don’t mind our Yuu-chan, he’s just a little overwhelmed right now.”

Yuri blinked a couple of times and then forced a smile to his face, ducking his chin at her. People bowed in Japan, right? “Sorry about dragging the trash in with me, some people just don’t know when to leave well enough alone.”

Victor glared at Yuri and Makkachin bounded past them both, jumping up to put her front paws on Yuuri’s shoulders and lick at his face. He blinked several times, then turned to the lady and said a couple of sentences in Japanese. She responded back and Yuri bristled. This little ‘ignoring him’ trick was going on long enough. Whatever happened to the cool Yuuri from last week? This punk was all the way back to two years ago, which couldn’t be allowed to stand. Clearly his plan to come to Japan before this coaching idea was totally shut down had been the correct move.

“OY! Rude much?? Speak English, we don’t know Japanese!”

“Sorry Yuri-kun, I just thought that Victor Nikiforov was here with you which was completely ridiculous, I must have been dreaming. What are you doing here? We haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

Yuri narrowed his eyes, sneering at Yuuri. So that’s how he was going to play it, using Victor’s clear desire for any excuse to leave to try and get out of this. Victor’s eyebrows were already climbing in realization.

“Actually, I am—”

Yuri jumped in. “I know you well enough by now to know that you're going to try to weasel your way out of this with some shitty condescending excuse about how I'm not smart enough to know what I need to succeed.”

“Really here—”

“Which is you, by the way, a fact that you are well aware of."

“But clearly you don’t—”

Yuuri clutched at Makkachin’s fur and laughed with a slightly crazed look in his eyes, cutting both Yuri and Victor off. They glanced at each other awkwardly for a second before Victor smiled coolly, turning back to Yuuri.

“Never mind what he said—”

Victor was NOT going to win at this! Yuri knocked his side with Potya’s carrier, sending him stumbling into the dog. “Are you listening to me?? You are going to be my coach. Deda and Yakov already agreed, you can’t disappoint them now.”

Victor straightened up and somehow turned his stumble into one of his moves, ending up slightly too close to Yuuri, who gulped audibly and finally looked directly at him before immediately cutting his eyes back to Yuri.

“I-I-I didn’t—”

Victor leaned in even further with that fake press smile “He’s just a little confused—”

Yuri clenched his fists and then threw caution to heaven and flung open the door to Potya’s carrier. “SO THANKS for the housing, does your dog chase cats? Potya would like to stretch her legs!”

Potya yowled at the top of her lungs and shot out of the carrier, landing directly on Yuuri’s chest and hissing at Victor before springing toward the smaller poodle that had wandered into the room at some point in time. Yuuri seized the opportunity to dive away from Victor, grabbing the empty carrier out of Yuri’s hands and holding it in front of his chest like a shield.

They all stared at each other for a solid minute before a feminine voice cleared her throat.

“Shall we collect your baggage?”

Yuri definitely didn’t jump. He remembered that she was there just fine, he’d just ignored it a little, okay? Victor pulled himself up even further and put on his press conference shell like a bug. Yuuri turned slowly to look at the woman who was still standing there.

Victor recovered first but it wasn’t like it was a race or anything. Besides, Yuri was totally about to say something anyway, and would have if he’d been on his own, but Victor was older so it was really his job to make the official arrangements if he was going to insist on joining them.

“This appears to be a hotel, is that correct? If so, Yuri and I would like temporary rooms for the next two weeks only while we take a much-needed vacation to unwind from the stresses of the competition circuit. You may take our luggage and show us the way at any time.”

 

**Yuuri**

 

Yuuri groaned and ran his hand down his face as his phone booted up and he finally got several texts from Phichit as well as a new email from Coach Feltsman. Assuming he knew the contents of the texts, he pulled up the email.

 

> Katsuki-san,
> 
> My apologies but it appears Yuri is already on his way to Hasetsu. I sincerely implore you consider our discussions as official and treat the boy with some amount of patience when he arrives. I hope I can expect that he will be your student starting now, for your stipulated trial period.
> 
> Best of luck,
> 
> Yakov Feltsman

 

Wouldn’t this have been nice to get, oh, he didn’t know, maybe _two hours ago??_ A muffled thump sounded from the other room, followed by shouting as Yuri mouthed off to Victor Nikiforov yet again.

Victor Nikiforov.

In Yuu-topia Katsuki.

Victor.

Nikiforov.

In the next room over. Getting ready for a dinner in which Yuuri would have to both face his idol without embarrassing himself and somehow convince Yuri to go back with said idol at the end of this little vacation, or failing that, that this coaching thing was really only temporary and definitely shouldn’t last till the Grand Prix, which was what Yakov was pushing for. This coaching thing. Yuuri turned around and collapsed face-down on his bed.

Well, if he stayed he’d learn soon enough that Yuuri wasn’t what he really needed in a coach.

 

—

 

 **Phichit** : _(…)_

 **Christophe** : exqze

 **Christophe** : stilllll wtnggg

 **Christophe** : phichit??

 **Christophe** : >:(

 

—

 

Yuuri stared miserably at his Katsudon. His mother really had been sweet for making it when she could tell that he was overwhelmed, but he was so far past being overwhelmed that for the first time in his life he couldn’t even taste the meal, aside from a faint feeling of ashes in his mouth which he knew wasn’t actually there. Sighing, he began methodically shoveling it in his mouth. The sooner this dinner was through the sooner he could pretend to go to bed and spend the next twelve hours _minimum_ processing what had happened today.

A voice drilled its way into his ears from Victor’s general direction.

“Well you’re a little piggy now, aren’t you? Careful, it might run away before you can finish it.”

Yuuri glanced up, hoping desperately to see Victor talking to Vicchan or Makkachin or even Potya. No such luck; Victor was looking straight at him. Yuuri rolled his shoulders and hunched further into a ball, setting his chopsticks down. Even Katsudon couldn’t save him, apparently.

“So,” Victor flashed his teeth at Yuuri. “How much experience do you have coaching?”

“Um.” Yuuri jammed his fingers under his thighs to stop from grabbing the chopsticks again just to have something to do with his hands. “I don’t actually… I don’t—”

“A couple of years assistant coaching in America,” Yuri interrupted.

Yuuri frowned, turning to Yuri to correct him. The boy stared back, flashing his eyes and ripping a piece of pork in half with his chopsticks in a clear challenge.

Victor raised an eyebrow at their little display.

“Oh, really. And before that, how many years competing?”

His voice was mild but his eyes glinted like ice and Yuuri suddenly realized that for some reason Victor was trying to embarrass him.

“You see, we’re relatively the same age but I don’t recall ever seeing you at any mutual competitions.”

Yuri slammed his chopsticks down next to his bowl. “Maybe you just weren’t paying enough attention. It’s not like you ever do anyway!”

“And maybe,” Victor turned to Yuri, “just maybe, you should let your coach speak for himself. After all, he’ll need to learn to do that awfully fast if he wants to be able to handle the pressure of accompanying an internationally ranked athlete around the world.”

There was a piece of pork in Yuuri’s bowl that looked like it was slowly trying to bury itself under the egg, or maybe just drown itself altogether. He could commiserate. Where was Potya? Maybe she could make another distraction? Ah, no, there she was at Yuri’s feet, perfectly content to watch this play out.

“So, _Yuuri_ , what makes you think that you’re ready to handle coaching Yuri at that level?”

Yuuri swallowed a few times, wishing for the first time ever that the onsen would maybe just accidentally burn down right then and there. Maybe the stove was still on? Or perhaps Potya or Makkachin had shoved some toy into the kotatsu heater?

“Wait, his name is Yuri too?”

Never had he been so grateful to have an older sister in his life. Yuuri sent a quick thank you to every god he’d ever heard of as Mari entered the room, wrinkling her nose.

“That won’t do. From now on your name is Yurio.”

“WHAT?!”

Yuri half dove up and Potya yowled at him, flicking her whiskers and making her way to Yuuri’s lap instead.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! You can’t just go changing someone’s name like that!!”

Victor turned that fake smile on Yuri and tilted his head to the side.

“I like it…. Yurio.”

A look flashed across Yuri’s face so briefly that Yuuri would have almost thought it was imaginary, except for the fact that he’d been on the receiving end of that smile and tone of voice all evening and knew exactly what Yuri was feeling. Before he knew it his mouth was opening and—

“No.”

“What?”

He looked at Victor and deliberately picked up his chopsticks again, shoveling a bite into his mouth and staring him down as he chewed it. He turned to Yuri.

“Is there another nickname you would prefer? I never asked you how you felt about Yuri-kun either. If you prefer your given name please let me know and I will make sure that everyone simply calls you Yuri.”

Yuri flushed. “That’s a nickname? I thought it was just…”

Yuuri and Mari both rocked their heads back and forth in unison before Mari spoke up. “You’re right, it’s only kind of a nickname. It’s specific to our culture - I call him that too, along with Yuu-kun.”

“Oh. I guess we have something like that - in my culture it’s Yura. You can… you can call me that if you want to if that’s easier.” His voice raised as he indicated Victor with his chin. “ _He_ doesn’t get to though. My name is Yuri and he can use that alone.”

“What, you don’t—”

“That works for me, Yura.” Yuuri’s tone brokered no argument as he cut Victor off. “Would you care for dessert?”

 

—

 

Practice the next morning was already shaping up to be an… interesting affair. After dinner Yuuri had finally been worked up enough to email Yakov back, which upon hearing Victor and Yuri fighting in the next room yet again had ended up as a firm acceptance of his terms, coaching Yuri till the Grand Prix series was over, as well as a sincere and heartfelt plea to ask Victor to return to Russia early as Yuri had been safely escorted to the onsen and was ready to get started but appeared to be easily distracted by the other skater’s presence.

Yakov had responded pleasantly to his agreement to coach and ignored the Victor segment altogether. His subsequent attempts to delicately hint to Victor that he had things handled were… unsuccessful, to say the least.

Leading to this.

Yuuri shifted his weight from one foot to another, staring out of the corner of his eye at Victor Nikiforov, the Extremely Pissed Living Legend.

Victor, standing by the door of the Ice Castle, glared back.

Yuri threw his head back with a wordless sound of rage and pushed past Victor, stomping over to Yuuri.

“Thanks for the escort, Old Man, but you can leave now. I’m about to start a private practice with my coach.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Tell me, Coach Yuuri, how many children have you worked with before now? Are you well acquainted with the proper safety precautions for coaching youths?”

“I am NOT a _CHILD!”_

Yuuri barely caught himself before making an incredibly rude face at Victor’s line of questioning. Clearly he was scrambling to find any excuse to stop him from coaching Yuri because as far as he was aware (and maybe this was a little full of himself but he was really very acquainted with most aspects of Victor’s public and professional life) Victor had even less experience than Yuuri did working with teenagers. At least he’d trained closely with Yuuko until he went to America, and then with Phichit for years afterward. Maybe he hadn’t trained them exactly, but he’d trained with them. Plus, he was younger than Victor - he’d technically been a teenager more recently.

Victor and Yuri were staring at him. Apparently he’d been less successful at hiding his face than he’d thought.

“Of course you’re not a child, Yura. I’m sure Victor was just mistaken, considering how long it’s been since he was a teenager himself.”

Victor stiffened and Yuuri’s heart stopped as he realized the inadvertent insult he’d just let slip. Yuri barked out a laugh and Victor turned burning eyes on the teen. Yuri grinned and propped his hands on his hips.

“You look a little tense, _Old Man._ Maybe you need to go back to the onsen and relax in the hot springs. The cold weather can be harsh if you’re not prepared for it.”

Victor’s lip curled. “Is the weather here too harsh for you, Yurio? Maybe it’s you who needs to go back to the onsen to find some warmer clothes. I’m sure once you grow up and fill out those rags you’re so fond of you’ll be fine, but for now they don’t look like they help much in keeping your delicate bones warm.”

Yuri snarled and Yuuri dove between the two, reaching his hands out in a placating gesture and trying desperately to figure out what to say. He definitely didn’t want Victor watching the practice and judging him when he didn’t even know where he was going to start with Yuri, but he clearly couldn’t stay and play well with Yuri (even though he seemed intent on doing so). Really, what was his problem though? What on earth had they done to invite such vitriol?? He opened his mouth and was about to just start spurting whatever words came forward when the door slammed open, smacking Victor right in the rear end and sending him flying forward, directly at Yuuri.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Victor**

 

Victor stumbled forward, the momentum carrying him right into Katsuki’s surprisingly muscular arms. Katsuki yelped and almost dropped him before catching himself and righting him, placing him back on his feet and carefully stepping three steps away. He bowed at the boy now standing in the doorway and let loose a rapid stream of Japanese, in which the boy responded at a decibel about ten times louder and more excited.

Their fight forgotten, Yuri crossed his arms and stepped between Katsuki and the new arrival, exuding hostile energy so intense it was practically solid.

“Who the fuck are you?? Doesn’t anyone respect the idea of a private practice anymore???”

Victor snorted. Not likely, based on his experience with his rinkmates, and he was sure Yuri had also barged in on his own fair number of practices as well, the little hypocrite. The boy turned to Yuri with a glare, ignoring Katsuki’s clear protestations and finally responding in English.

“I heard Katsuki-san was taking students so I’m here to join in! You’re very talented as well, Yuri, I’m very excited to be joining your training team!”

Victor’s eyebrows shot up.

_Training team?_

This man wasn’t even a real coach yet and he was already collecting figure skaters in some sick bid for relevance? He had the top junior figure skater in the world practically eating out of his hand and now it turned out he wasn’t even prepared to give him his full attention and dedication?? If that was the case, what were all of his protestations supposed to be about? Just show for Victor? Bile rose in the back of Victor’s throat as his dreams for Yuri and the future competition he represented drifted further and further out of sight.

Yuri was still frowning and Katsuki was still firing away in quick Japanese, which the kid responded to every once in a while with a giant grin. Suddenly Yuri snapped his fingers, pointing at the kid and shutting the two of them up for a moment.

“Wait a minute, you’re that kid with the cat cafe in his town, right? From the SBC Cup last year?”

The kid grinned at Yuri. “That’s right! Kenjirou Minami, in case you forgot. Or wait, you do it the other way, don’t you? Anyway, you can call me Minami! And I competed against you this year too, you know.”

Yuri shrugged. “Good for you.” He stepped forward and began pushing Minami back toward the door. “But Yuuri is already booked to coach me this season and that’s a full time job, so you can just run along now.”

“Yura, be polite please!”

“Coaches are allowed to have more than one student you little brat—”

“Minami-kun, please!”

“—And besides, I’ve been Katsuki-san’s fan for _far_ longer than you, so it’s my right to join in.”

“Up yours, punk, I’ve been Yuuri’s fan since his _debut_ , so you can just shove it right up—”

_“Yura!”_

“Well so have I, _and_ I’m a co-captain of his official fanclub so I guess you missed the train, now _move on_ and don’t miss your plane back to Russia too!”

“Well that’s a bald-faced lie, because I’M the—” Yuri cut himself off, flushing bright red and glancing back and forth between the two actual adults in the room.

Victor was mystified. How on earth had Katsuki become so popular when Victor had literally never heard of him in his life? He had an official fanclub??

Katsuki was blushing now too, muttering something about how he wasn’t even a real coach yet anyway, which Victor personally couldn’t agree with more, when yet more people popped out from behind the skate rental counter.

“Sounds like it’s time for a COMPETITION!”

Victor stared at the three small girls standing there, totally mystified. Did everyone in Japan speak English? The taxi driver certainly hadn’t. Also, where were all these children coming from?

Yuri was the first to find his words again. “Sounds great! When I win, everyone leaves us alone!”

Victor needed to control this situation as soon as possible before everything spiraled even further. Clearly Yuri wasn’t ready to leave yet, but maybe he could find a way to disillusion him. He threw his arm around Yuri’s shoulders. “Perfect! We’ll have the competition in two weeks, Saturday evening. I’ll coach Yuri and Katsuki can coach Minami. Russia vs. Japan, a mini-Olympics!”

Victor would leave on Sunday morning after the competition, and with two weeks to convince Yuri how much he needed a coach who understood him, he was positive that Yuri would be on the plane with Victor as well.

Yuri grimaced, shoving Victor’s arm off and sending him stumbling back toward Katsuki, though he caught himself this time. Not that he particularly minded being enveloped in a strong set of arms (it’d been a while since he was swept off his feet), but he’d prefer if it wasn’t this upstart loser who was trying to steal all of Victor’s chances at future happiness.

Oh wait, Yuri was still speaking.

“—way, old man, I came here for his choreography. Besides, what kind of loser wants his competitor to coach him? What kind of loser wants to coach his competitor?? You’re just setting yourself up for disappointment when you lose!”

Victor narrowed his eyes. How insulting. Of course he had the professionalism to separate the two things! Fine then, he would just coach this Minami kid into fire on ice and Yuri could see what it felt like to be crushed by a bolt out of nowhere. Victor was nothing if not a Living Legend, and by the time he was done with the kid the competition would be in the bag and Yuri would be forced back to Russia when Minami claimed Katsuki.

“I call Katsuki-san too!! And if _I_ win, Katsuki-san has to coach BOTH of us!!”

Victor blinked.

Did… did he not exist anymore? Did nobody in Japan know who he was? Or… no, that couldn’t be right, even the aging Katsukis had known who he was. Was it that he was too intimidating?

Also, why had both of them included Yuri staying in their win-condition?

What kind of competition was this???

So far, nothing in Japan had been turning out right, from everyone completely ignoring him upon arrival at the onsen, to Makka betraying him and sleeping in Yuri’s room with that other poodle and Potya (who Victor could have sworn hated every man, woman, and animal on earth not named Yuri, _including_ Makkachin, which was a crime because she was just about the most lovable being on the planet), to the two Yuris leaving him behind this morning when they went to the Ice Palace, leading to him having to beg a bike off the Katsuki family and ride frantically around the town until he found them, to this new calamity.

And really, how had this Minami fellow even found out about Yuri and Katsuki? Clearly the news wasn’t widely known, or there would be reporters everywhere… not that Victor was complaining, as the freedom from being followed everywhere was an immense relief, but he probably shouldn’t get used to it or the adjustment back to the cold public competition circuit would just be that much harder. He gritted his teeth. Another reason to leave as soon as possible.

Or just retire altogether, but he wasn’t thinking about that.

Yuri was lucky, really, that he didn’t have that problem yet… this town would be a poor place to prepare for it, though. Toughen someone up? Ha! This place could only soften him, which would never be allowed to stand in the harsh light of professional skating, not at the level Yuri was aspiring to. Or should be aspiring to, if Victor could just rescue him from this hare-brained scheme.

Slowly, Victor became aware of a purple-clad child staring into his face.

“I said,” she said, enunciating clearly, “you can be the judge. Okay?”

Judging? What, instead of coaching? Victor frowned. What did they call it in the movies? Sloppy seconds?

“Fine then.” Be that way, he continued silently. And crash and burn when Katsuki can’t figure out how to coach you in time. “But if I’m to be impartial then I won’t help either of you get ready at all.”

“Good point,” Katsuki practically shouted. “To preserve your impartiality you should stay away from practices too! No entry allowed to the Ice Castle when either of the boys are working with me!”

“Fine, then!”

Yuri and Minami’s jaws dropped and Victor realized that he’d been shouting as well. Steaming inside at Katsuki for making him lose his cool, Victor grabbed his sunglasses and flashed a press-worthy grin at the three of them, turning on his heel and gesturing for the little girls to follow.

“Time to start planning! Have you girls ever organized a competition before?”

 

**Yuuri**  

 

By the time Yuuri realized he wasn’t alone he’d been trying to improve upon his old Lohengrin routine for two hours. He waved back at Yuuko and began making his way to the edge of the rink, running over the final iteration of the routine in his head and realizing that he didn’t even remember any of the other ones he’d gone through thus far.

To be honest, even the hour before the boys had left was pretty much a blur, from the moment Victor ran off to plan… a competition? For which the prize was Yuuri?? Yuuri, who’d literally never coached someone in his life and was such a mess that he’d killed his own career, and probably shouldn’t be responsible for anyone else’s. Yuuri, who’d only ever been a dime a dozen mediocre skater to begin with, who wasn’t even recognized at major skating competitions, who didn’t even have his own official skating rink or any connections in the ISU. Yuuri, the absolute nobody.

And yet somehow the best and brightest of two different countries were currently headed to the onsen, where they would be living with Yuuri and being coached by him for the next two weeks to determine their fate for the whole season.

Or, well, to have their fates determined by Victor Nikiforov.

Victor Nikiforov, the man Yuuri had been low-key in love with for his entire adult life, since before he even really knew what love was. Victor Nikiforov, the Living Legend, literally living in the room next to his for the next two weeks. Victor Nikiforov, who for some reason, Hated Yuuri’s Guts.

What could go wrong?

“Watch out!”

Yuuko’s shout came a half second too late, right as he crashed into the wall about two inches to the right of the exit from the rink. Gently, she grabbed his hand and led him through the actual opening, sitting him down on the nearest bench and briskly rubbing his arms.

He squinted at the clock, reaching for his glasses.

“Victor Nikiforov and my children are currently planning a competition in my living room and based on what I heard I figured you might need me right about now, so let me start by saying you’re welcome for leaving that surprise alone on my couch! Let’s get you a bracing hot cocoa… I think I’ve got some cinnamon whiskey in the back.”

“Isn’t it only lunchtime…?”

“Well you look like you could use a little extra oomph today. C’mon, I’ll raid the shop, we’ve got some boxed lunches.”

Yuuri stared blankly as Yuuko’s words filtered into his brain. Victor was at her house…? Oh gosh, he hadn’t even told her that he was in town! His eyes filled up with tears at the thought that she’d come over to comfort him anyway, even though she had every right to be upset with him for keeping secrets.

“Do… do you have amaretto? Phichit used to make amaretto chocolate for me during final exams…”

“Don’t let Minako-sensei hear that or she’ll start wailing about how you’ve been spoiled soft in America.” Their eyes met and they both spouted off her usual spiel as one. “What, is classic sake not good enough for you?? Nobody appreciates tradition anymore!”

Yuuri sniffed and giggled around his ensuing hiccup. Yuuko always knew what to say to make him feel better. Truly, he didn’t deserve someone like her in his life. She grinned at him and began leading him toward her office.

“So, what’s this I hear about more skaters vying for your hand? Last I knew it was just that other Yuri trying to convince you to let him come out.”

“Well… he’s here.”

Yuuri didn’t know how to continue. After a moment Yuuko nodded, taking pity on him.

“…I’d gathered. And he brought Victor, who is planning on judging a showdown between him and…?”

“Minami Kenjirou.”

“Oh I like him! He reminds me a bit of you.” They entered her office and she began rifling through cabinets. “Maybe a little more energetic though. Aha!” Brandishing a bottle of amaretto, she grabbed the hot chocolate mix and two mugs. “He’s mentioned you as a strong inspiration in some of his interviews, you know. Anyway, between those two boys, Victor will come around in a heartbeat.”

Yuuri’s face crumpled as the tears began again in earnest. Honestly, it was a relief to finally be able to let them out, although the circumstances were so unpleasant. Who ever expected their childhood idol to show up out of nowhere, already determined to dislike them?

“I just don’t understand why he hates me so much!”

“I know, sweetcheeks, I know.”

Yuuko rubbed him on the back, setting the mugs by the kettle and turning the heat on, plopping a lunch before him. Wait a moment - Yuuri’s heart collapsed inward as he realized he’d never told Yuuko about Victor’s inexplicable coolness. Which meant that Victor…

Yuuko seemed to come to that conclusion at the same time because she suddenly whacked him hard enough to knock his glasses askew and changed the subject in an oddly loud voice.

“ANYWAY, have you got any ideas about songs for the boys to skate to??”

Admittedly, even though Yuuri knew it was a distraction, it worked (but only because the two boys were so ridiculous and his stomach was starting to growl). He dug into his boxed lunch, rolling his eyes.

“Yuuko, Minami-kun wants to do Lohengrin.”

She raised her eyebrows, grinning at him. “I kind of figured from the music in the rink. And like, half of his interviews. What about Yuri? Have you started working on his yet?”

Yuuri sighed. “No… I have no clue where to even start with the ridiculous song he’s insisting on. I thought Minami’s might be easier but I don’t know how to make it better… it wasn’t really that good of a routine to begin with!”

“Yuuri, when we were kids we did so many terrible routines and thought they were great and you know what? Everyone else did too. They were great because they had heart in them, not because they were actually good.”

Yuuko’s idea was a nice one, if completely wrong. Sure, maybe their parents and friends had cared more about the heart behind their pieces, but the judge for this competition was Victor Nikiforov, known far and wide for his brilliant execution and technicality. He wouldn’t be impressed by something as nebulous as heart, not if the choreography or skating couldn’t hold up to the level he expected on a daily basis.

“Hey - remember when we were kids during the off-season, and we had Victor’s routines memorized, and we would try to make Victor-inspired versions of his dances? Like to slightly different music, or using his newer styles with his older routines? What if you tried to do that but with you?”

Yuuri wrinkled his nose, rolling his head to the side. “I did think of that sort of, how I would do the routine differently now, but as you could see it wasn’t really working.” He sighed. “Maybe I should just give up for the day.”

Yuuko raised an eyebrow.

“Yuuri, the man known for skating at the rink until the wee hours of the morning, giving up at lunchtime?”

Yuuri wailed through his mouthful of rice as Yuuko placed her hands on his and continued.

“Or you could try to actually use the network at your fingers. Have you asked Minako-sensei for help yet? She’s at her studio, I passed her on my way here.”

Yuuri stared at Yuuko, blinking in consternation. She was right, Minako was the perfect one to ask for help. Hadn’t she choreographed all of his routines as a junior, before moving to Detroit? He’d still ended up calling her for advice when he was trying to compete in seniors, and even messed around with choreographing little ballet duets on the regular once returning to Hasetsu.

“Yuuko, you’re a genius!”

Swallowing the rest of his current mouthful, Yuuri jumped up and ran toward the locker room to grab his stuff, completely forgetting the rest of his lunch or the cup of cocoa he’d been waiting on.

“Hey, don’t forget to finish your—”

 

—

 

Minako was around, and more than willing to help him out. That was, after scolding him for a good ten minutes when he confessed that he’d wasted the whole morning trying to improve on his Lohengrin.

Eventually she settled by saying that practice was never a waste and working hard would always pay out in the end, and had him show her what he’d come up with anyway. Unfortunately, when he showed her the routine he’d revamped with all the new stuff he’d put into it if he performed it nowadays, she took him to task for focusing on what he would do and not what Minami would do. Never mind that it was exactly what Yuuko had told him to focus on, or the fact that he wasn’t all that familiar with Minami’s strengths and weaknesses, or even the argument that he knew it was a hot mess and that’s why he’d come over in the first place. She just kept fixating on actually getting to know his students, which he didn’t exactly have time to do.

Of course, telling her that had just led to this, so he sighed and sunk deeper into his stretches as she queued up Minami’s next video on YouTube.

“See how he struggles in his switches between segments? Your routines tend to draw those out because smooth transitions are one of your strengths, but you’ll want to minimize them for him and disguise it with your choreography, since you don’t have much time to actually work on improving that before the competition.”

Yuuri hummed as he watched the video. Minami was inconsistent in a lot of ways - he’d handled the last transition just fine, but he’d struggled with the previous three. He should consider using the one he’d just watched in his routine, since it was one Minami already seemed to have down.

Minako agreed when he brought it up, adding it to their list of “things Minami is good at.” The list was pretty flexible considering how he would be good at something in one routine and then crash and burn on it in the next, but it was slowly growing. He really did remind Yuuri of himself in that respect. There were a lot of segments that he could pick out as lifted directly from his junior routines, and even one from that single disastrous senior season. Eventually they had enough that they could substitute Minami’s strengths in for the parts from the original Lohengrin that he seemed weak in and the bits that needed something extra to bump it from a junior to a senior routine. It wasn’t necessarily groundbreaking in the end, but they only had two weeks and it was a full and workable routine, enough so that he could start working on the other one.

Or, well, try.

Watching Yuri’s videos during a late dinner break after finishing Minami’s choreo was both familiar and intimidating. Familiar because he’d already watched and even skated many of them throughout the years, not to mention working with Yuri on the most recent one. Intimidating because, well, not only was the boy an absolute beast on the ice and Yuuri really didn’t need the reminder that somehow this monster of a talent thought that Yuuri could teach him something, but literally none of his old routines were anything like the song he wanted to do.

None of Yuuri’s were for that matter either.

Minako wrinkled up her nose, grabbing a bottle of sake and taking a swig. “This is getting ridiculous. What about exhibitions?”

“Looks like he still does the big classical pieces for exhibitions as well - that Russian Fairy moniker really does fit well with these ballet symphonies. Minako-sensei, what am I supposed to do?”

“Have you tried asking his old coach? Or maybe your coach from America? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I will definitely help all I can but I can only do so much. I’m not actually a skating instructor, and my students have all been pretty much solely ballet, even you.”

Yuuri sighed. “I don’t think I’m comfortable enough with Coach Feltsman to ask that, and Celestino was always more about the skating technique than the music. He would just sign us up for outside lessons if he thought we were lacking in something, like that semester he made Phichit and me do pole dancing.”

Mid-sip, Minako sprayed her sake all over Yuuri’s shirt. “You did what now?”

Blushing furiously, Yuuri flung his hands up in supplication. “It wasn’t like that, Minako-sensei! We didn’t do any of the sexy stuff - our teacher let us play songs from musicals and films and mostly just taught us cool moves. None of us were any good at the sorts of things she could do!”

“Well, try calling her or someone else because we’re both stuck here and he needs something wild and loose. In the meantime, go home. You need a break.”

Yuuri eyed her half-empty bottle of sake and the puddle still soaking into the last few bites of his sandwich. Shrugging, he crammed the rest into his mouth anyway and mopped up the extra with his napkin, swinging off the chair in the same motion to grab both of their coats. “I’ll drop you off at the bar on the way home, they’re showing Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake on NHK tonight.”

Minako jumped up with a shout but Yuuri managed to mostly duck this spray of sake. Sighing, he wiped the splatter up with an elbow since he’d already thrown the napkins away. Maybe he should start bringing towels to his dinners with her in the future.

“I can’t believe I forgot!! Hurry up, Yuuri, I don’t want to miss a single moment - all those strong bare chests right there on display for everyone to see…”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Victor**

 

“So how is Japan?”

“Terrible.” Victor flopped backward onto his bed, letting the camera fall back to point at the ceiling. “Christophe, what am I doing here?”

“Going through a midlife crisis, I’d assume.”

Victor snorted. “More like end of career crisis. I don’t know why I thought this would be easy. Yuri doesn’t want anything to do with me and somehow everyone we meet is in love with this Katsuki guy.” He propped himself up, grabbing his phone and bringing it back up to look Chris in the eye. “What do you know about him, anyway? Why did he stop skating? All I could find online were some old junior videos, but I swear, it’s like they think he’s a god here. Some kid actually hunted us down today and got in a literal altercation with Yuri over the privilege of being coached by him. While I was standing right there!”

Chris raised his eyebrow. “Minami Kenjirou, Japan’s Most Adorable Junior?”

“Wait, do you know him?”

“Victor, he competed at JGP with Yuri this year. He literally interrupted us to ask for your autograph in the locker room.”

“Hmm.” Victor waved his hand. He didn’t remember but he never paid much attention anyway so he’d take Chris’s word for it. “No matter who he is, just that he showed up demanding a piece of Yuuri Katsuki as well. So what can you tell me about this guy?”

“Well, he used to be Japan’s top junior, and he went to JGP and JWC a couple of times. After that, not much… the official announcement says that he took a break to focus on his schooling but in the middle of his prime years? I can’t believe it. Plus I’m pretty sure I was at a senior competition where he crashed and burned right before quitting.”

“Well if he could just crash and burn again that would be great because I’d like to go home now, preferably with Yuri in tow.”

“Harsh! Where is he, anyway?”

“Yuri is downstairs. Katsuki is… hm.”

Victor wrinkled his nose, tossing the phone to the side and rolling to his stomach to gaze out the window. According to the boys he’d stayed at the ice rink when they left, but he still wasn’t back and it was long after dinnertime. Victor raised his eyebrows, considering the quiet view outside. Was it possible he really was working hard at this? His stomach swooped - he didn’t actually know whether he wanted that or not. On the one hand, he liked the idea that Yuri was being taken seriously, but on the other hand…

He let his head drop into the pillows with a sigh.

“Chris, I really am a terrible person, right? I don’t even want this Onsen on Ice thing to work out! These are just kids and I actually want them to fail.”

“Eh, they’re professional skaters. They need to learn to fail anyway. Besides, you’re just upset and determined to hate Katsuki right now, and probably a little jealous of their youthful vigor.”

Victor threw a pillow at the phone. Chris didn’t react. He peeked under his arm at the phone. Not only was it face down, but the pillow had landed a good meter away. Huffing out another sigh he started fishing at it with a foot, trying to drag it closer and ultimately kicking it off the edge of the bed.

“Hey! If you can’t take the truth don’t take it out on me!! Go find him and figure these things out yourself!”

“No, wait!” Victor dove for the phone but by the time he got off the bed and collected it from the floor Chris had disconnected. He gazed longingly at the bed, considering whether to sigh yet again and drape himself across it like a proper storybook hero, but one of the dogs started barking before he got the chance to really get into character. Maybe he should check on Katsuki instead. He might have been a terrible person who wanted everyone to fail but he could at least try to want them to succeed, and if Katsuki really had been working at it all day then he just might be slightly more decent than Victor’d thought.

 

 **Phichit** : _(…)_

 **Christophe** : ouf

 **Christophe** : c mal

 

**Yuuri**

 

Laughing, Yuuri waved goodbye to the usual crowd as he left Minako behind the bar just in time to catch the opening strains of Swan Lake. He’d been tempted to stay but classical ballet was the last thing he needed on his mind what with this whole Yuri conundrum. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up just in time to stop himself crashing into Victor Nikiforov, who was staring up at the sign behind him with his lip curled delicately over one incisor in a perfectly beautiful sneer.

Victor turned without a word and started stalking back the way he’d come, long legs eating up the pavement with each stride. Yuuri squeaked and scrambled to catch up, Victor giving him another long glance down the side of his nose as he finally did and somehow tripped over his own feet in the process. The silence slowly grew colder and colder until it was positively frigid.

Finally Yuuri couldn’t stand it anymore. “How did you find m—”

“I went to the ice rink. Yuuko said you’d gone to Minako’s hours ago.” He sniffed and recoiled, wrinkling his nose and turning his face away from Yuuri as he sped up. “Clearly, she was right, and here we are.”

Yuuri frowned, skipping a little until he found a new stride. What on earth was with these mixed signals?? If Victor hated him so much why had he even come looking for him in the first place? He clearly didn’t want to converse, and even if he had, it wasn’t like they were staying in different parts of town or anything - their rooms were literally meters apart from each other.

He briefly wondered if Victor wanted Yuuri to ask for advice or something and even more briefly toyed with the idea of actually doing it, maybe asking about Yuri’s routine, but every glance he managed to work himself up enough to take revealed something more like a statue than a man and he ended up wilting back in shame. They were almost back to the onsen when he opened his mouth yet again, almost afraid of what would come out.

“So what is—”

Victor burst into a sudden whirlwind, grabbing his coat by the lapels and whipping him into the alley next to the onsen, pinning him against the wall. Yuuri’s blood rushed into his ears, heart pounding itself nearly out of his chest as he took in Victor’s sudden closeness, lips inches away from his.

Was he—

Was this—

Yuuri bit his lip and braced his elbows against the wall, hands still tangled in his pockets. Victor pushed his shoulders into the brick and leaned forward, voice low and dark.

“You know he broke the junior world record this year. This is supposed to be his debut year in seniors.”

“I…” Yuuri blinked. “…What?”

“Do you know anything about Russian athletics?”

Yuuri didn’t answer, still trying to figure out what was going on.

“I’ll take that as a no. This is possibly the most important year of his career. If he doesn’t make it now he runs the danger of fading for good and I won’t. Let that. Happen.” Victor sneered, pushing Yuuri’s shoulders harder into the wall. “I guess you’d know all about that kind of thing though, wouldn’t you.”

Yuuri’s jaw dropped and he finally found his voice, detangling his hands from his pockets and pushing Victor away. “What’s that supposed to mean??”

Something too brief to interpret flashed over Victor’s face and he pulled his hands back like he’d been burned, staring at them for a second before running one over his eyes as he turned away with a sigh.

“Look, Yuri is just a kid. He doesn’t know what he wants or whatever, and he doesn’t necessarily realize what’s best for him. If you can’t be as serious about this as he needs then please, just march in there and let him down gently before he gets too attached.“

A distant part of Yuuri, the part that generally started looking for a hole to hide in around this point in a conversation, was screaming somewhere in the back of his head. A less distant part began heating up as he registered the continuing attacks against his own character when Victor still didn’t know anything about him. The immediate part bristled on Yuri’s behalf, remembering his reaction two years ago when Yuuri said something similar to him.

All three parts watched his hand grab Victor’s elbow and spin him back toward them as though it was on a grainy movie screen. All three parts were vaguely surprised to hear his own voice echoing coldly throughout the empty theater.

“Don’t make me laugh. Yuri is a mature athlete competing in an adult sport and from what I’ve seen he’s a whole lot more so than you are. Figure skaters change coaches all the time, so suck it up and learn to be civil because it’s not your choice, and if you can’t handle it then you’re welcome to leave.”

He spun on his heel and stalked out of the alley, making it all the way to his room on pure adrenaline before collapsing in a shaking heap. What on earth had he just done?

 

**Yuri**

 

“Looks like they have popcorn here after all, how cool is that?” Yuri stuffed a handful in his mouth as he wove between Makkachin and Vicchan on his way to the couch. “Oi, what’s up, loser?”

Minami jumped and whirled around from his place at the window, both hands clapped over his mouth. “Nothing!”

His voice was suspiciously squeaky. Yuri squinted at him. Nobody reacted like that unless something was up. He didn’t look like he had a phone in his hand, but… his eyes wandered to the window. Was there something weird out there?

Makkachin chose that moment to nosedive into the bowl of popcorn and Yuri squawked, forgetting the window in his haste to rescue their snack.

“People food, not pet food!”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Yuuri**

 

Yuuri woke up to two dog noses in his face and, upon grabbing his glasses and bringing the rest of the room into focus, Victor standing in his doorway. His heart rate tripled for a split second before he remembered that he’d already torn down his old posters as a precaution two nights before. Letting out a sigh of relief he let his eyes fall shut again before he registered the fact that Victor was standing in his doorway and shot upright.

“V-Victor? What are you—”

“The boys are wondering what to do about training, _coach.”_ He turned around, snapping his fingers for the dogs. “I thought about taking them for a run, but I’m just a judge so it’s your decision. Or had you already planned out an alternate training schedule?”

Yuuri glared at him, and then at Vicchan running excitedly after him.

“Traitor.”

Makkachin turned around from rooting through his drawer, dropping a pair of underwear on his shoes. Yuuri flushed and scrambled out of bed, sliding the door shut and snatching another pair out from her jaws. Was difficulty and intent to embarrass a family trait? She whuffed and licked the back of his knee.

“At least you kind of like me. And I _was_ getting there with the training, I just got a little distracted by choreography.”

And the panic attack after threatening Victor last night, but Makkachin didn’t need to know about that. It was bad enough to get a paw on the head from Potya halfway through, who’d been accidentally trapped in his room and was clearly only deigning to help out of annoyance at his pitiable state and a desire for him to finish already so he could let her out, and not any sort of actual empathy.

Still better than Victor, though.

 

—

 

Yuuri ended up taking them on a run. Not that he wouldn’t have loved to do something different out of spite, but he didn’t think his heart could handle any more spite for a while, and to be honest it had already been what he’d been planning on anyway since it was what the Detroit team did and he figured their schedule was good enough for now since it was what he was most familiar with. Besides, they didn’t really have any other way to get to the Ice Castle. And anyway, he didn’t need excuses to do or not do what Victor suggested.

Yuuri shook his head, trying to forcibly dislodge Victor. And the rest of the Russia contingent. And Minami, because why not? And his anxiety, of course. No need for that to rise up and take over.

It probably would have been easier to get them out of his head were Victor and Makkachin not along for the trip. Yuuri eyed the basket on the bike, wishing he could trust Victor with its usual cargo, and wasn’t it sad that he actually had to wonder that about his childhood idol? He sighed. Actually, that probably wasn’t very fair to Victor - thus far he seemed to get along with Vicchan rather well. Really he only had problems with Yuuri. And Potya, but, well, Potya didn’t like anyone but Yuri and maybe, on a good day, the dogs.

Still, the fresh air helped, and with the boys as a buffer Victor hadn’t had a chance to talk to him yet. For a brief moment, staring steadfastly at the ground and avoiding any reminder that he was in Japan, Yuuri was able to imagine them all as one happy training family back in Detroit, maybe running with Phichit and everyone without the stress of having any upcoming competitions or coaching nightmares to worry about.

“Why are you looking down? The view is so pretty out here!”

And the brief moment ended just like that as Minami came to run next to Yuuri. Well, to be fair to Minami, it didn’t end just from the conversation - mostly it was the part where Yuri “tripped” and knocked Minami into the street, seamlessly taking his place, and then Minami came jostling his way back in, knocking him and Yuri apart and sending both of the boys into a veritable shoving match.

Yuuri grabbed both of their shirts and tugged them to a stop, letting Victor cluelessly continue on ahead. The quicker he could resolve this the better - no need to give Victor another reason to judge his coaching.

 

—

 

In retrospect, his brilliant idea to run faster to keep Minami and Yuri too tired to talk, push, or fight (which had worked out well enough that Victor hadn’t even noticed them catching up at the next stoplight) was terrible and Yuuri should actually just have made the run longer.

Miles longer.

Honestly, it would have been a pretty great punishment for his own sake: he could have banned the boys from skating today because of their constant fighting and then he wouldn’t have to deal with this. Not for the first time, he lamented the lack of Phichit hanging around - he would have easily thought of that the first time around.

Instead, Minami and Yuri stared at him with looks from opposite ends of the spectrum as he tried desperately to mentally melt the ice and fall through it.

“You mean you worked on this for an entire day and I still don’t even have a single step or jump sequence? While he has an _entire fucking routine_ already!?”

In retrospect (and Yuuri needed to stop looking back at things with all this 20/20 vision or he’d spend the day literally regretting everything), he really should have thought this through a little better. Namely, the part where the volatile fifteen year old had to deal with his overeager nemesis hogging all of the attention, and Yuuri had to somehow manage them both at the same time. Why, why had he not thought to put them in separate practices??

The boys waited, tension growing.

Yuuri glanced back and forth between them, forcing down a sudden lump in his throat as his spine and stomach slowly twisted further and further into the realms of pain and nausea.

“I… I’m…” The room almost grew darker. Right? Maybe a light went out or something? It wasn’t just Yuuri being his usual weak-willed loser self? Oh god Yuri was going to decide he hated him if he didn’t do something soon, and then he’d go back to Russia before the Onsen on Ice even started, and everyone would know that Yuuri was so pathetic he couldn’t even keep a potential student for two weeks, and, and—

He grabbed at the low wall for support. This was ridiculous and he knew it. He needed to pull himself together. What time was it? Noon? It was a weekend in the off season - Phichit would probably still be up in Detroit, maybe he could figure something out.

“Um… rest till lunch. Meet me back at the onsen.”

He spun on his heels and made a break for Yuuko’s office to hide until they left.

 

**Victor**

 

Victor was in the hot spring when he heard the boys come back. Not that it was all that hard to miss, what with the way Yuri was going on. He snorted. Finally, a sign that Yuri wasn’t so enamored that he was too far gone to save.

Strange though, he hadn’t realized he’d been in there so long (although he’d be the first to admit that he didn’t usually pay all that much attention to time). He pulled his hand out of the water, checking his fingertips curiously, but there were still no wrinkles. No tummy growling either. Was it really already lunchtime?

Grabbing his towel, he stood up to get out, only to have Yuri come barging in with Minami close behind.

“THERE ARE CHILDREN PRESENT!”

Going scarlet, Yuri grabbed a towel from the edge of the pool, chucking it toward his general vicinity. Minami grinned at Victor and hopped in the hot spring, ignoring Yuri.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just on edge from this morning’s practice.”

“What happened in practice?”

“Yuuri-sensei doesn’t have anything prepared for Yuri yet and he’s jealous that he’s already choreographed my entire routine, and probably nervous because I have more time to prepare now.”

Yuri flushed. “I’m talented enough to learn the whole thing in one day anyway! This is just a chance to relax from all my travel recently.”

Victor’s stomach hardened as the boys moved to the opposite side of the spring, still arguing about something or another. Apparently Katsuki was working on it now, which begged the question - why not last night? Running his tongue over his teeth, Victor sunk back into the water, trying to let the hot water soothe him yet again.

What was it Chris always said? It takes time to choreograph? He narrowed his eyes, sinking even further till only his nose was above water. Well, Yakov said that a man without any contingencies prepared was a has-been waiting to happen, and Chris wasn’t a coach anyway.

And neither of them had been there when Yuuri came stumbling out of that bar last night, positively reeking of alcohol and literally laughing in the face of responsibility.

And right when Victor had allowed himself to tentatively get his hopes up, too.

 

**Yuri**

 

Yuri rolled his eyes at Victor, pouting in the corner. Just because he didn’t have a routine yet didn’t mean anything. It probably just meant that Yuuri cared more about his routine and about making it as perfect as possible. He wasn’t kidding anyway when he’d said he could learn a whole routine in one day; that’d basically been what he’d done for the JWC with Yuuri’s help. Well, learned all the new musicality and body language, at least. But it wasn’t like learning a routine was all that hard, he basically could do it in his sleep by now.

He sighed and tuned Minami out yet again, drifting back to the first time he’d met Victor. He hadn’t quite detested him on sight, but he was certainly repulsed by the other man, a feeling which eventually went away once he saw Victor truly throwing himself into his skating and training, and was rushing full force back at this new aspect of his personality that seemed determined to make everyone else miserable.

And wasn’t that a perfect summation of life with Victor? Constant ups and downs of the other man being absolutely ridiculous in some way or another and then threading it through with flashes of brilliance? Yuri could only pray that the beautiful part would come back soon, because if it didn’t he was about ready to physically push him off the end of the pier, regardless of how cold the ocean might be.

 

**Phichit Chulanont**

 

Phichit was playing with his hamsters when Yuuri called in a panic. He knew it was a panic because by his calculations it was midday in Japan, and if Yuuri was calling now that meant he wasn’t—

“Unless you’re drunk calling from Victor Nikiforov’s lap in some seedy Japanese club I don’t want to talk right now.”

Yuuri turned bright red and covered his laptop speakers, as though that was going to help cancel out what Phichit had already said. Phichit snorted. From what he’d managed to see thus far it was pretty clear that Yuuri was holed up alone in his room anyway.

“Phichit,” Yuuri gasped, scandalized, “You can’t just say things like that! What if someone hears you?? Besides, it’s _lunchtime!”_

“Like that’s stopped you before?”

“First of all, it was _breakfast_ time, and we were at _brunch_ , and second of all, I was _not_ in that guy’s— no. No, we’re not doing this again. Besides, Victor hates me so that’s completely off the table.”

Phichit rolled off the couch and put his darlings back in their cage, plodding over to the kettle and starting the water on a boil.

“Oh wow, that stinks. What makes you think that?”

“Well,” Yuuri made a face, “he basically told me. Anyway, I’m not calling about that, I can’t think about it right now. This is about the Onsen on Ice.”

Phichit frowned. Well that wasn’t good. Hopefully Yuuri was just blowing something Victor said out of proportion. He briefly considered digging deeper, but Yuuri’s face tightened in anticipation and he decided to go along with the subject change.

“Yeah, I saw that on Instagram, and I must say I’m very put out that I had to find out online with the rest of the masses and not from you directly. What’s it all about anyway? Are you performing?”

“No!” Yuuri was bright red by now. “Yura and Minami are competing to be coached by me, and Victor is judging. It’s going to be a disaster.”

Phichit burst out laughing, giggling even harder at the look on Yuuri’s face in response. “Oh yeah, for sure! But what do you expect, it’s a competition set up in a week total with brand new routines for both competitors! Anyway, since that’s definitely nothing you can control and not your fault, what else is up?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. Phichit raised an eyebrow right on back. Finally Yuuri sighed and gave in.

“Well, Yura picked the song that he wants to do…”

Phichit’s phone dinged as the [link ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuKdXqfPM4g)came through.

“Wait, is this—” Phichit almost died when the song began to play. “Oh my god, does he know this is originally an ABBA song? This is…oh, wow.” He bopped his head to the beat. “Yeah, actually this is pretty perfect for him. His fans all wear cat ears, did you know?”

Yuuri dropped his head to his desk with a soft wail.

“That’s not the point, Phichit! I’m a ballet person, I can’t choreograph this sort of wild exciting metal song! I don’t have any of that rocker sex appeal.”

Mid-pour, Phichit slipped, sending the mug flying across the table. Dropping his phone, he scrambled to find napkins and mop everything up as Yuuri continued to whine in the background.

“—going to be a complete disaster… Phichit?”

“One second,” Phichit called back. Finally his heart rate settled and the parts of his sweatshirt that had been in the splash zone started looking merely damp rather than soaked, so he picked his phone up again. “You were saying?”

Yuuri was glaring at Phichit.

“This isn’t funny! I’ve literally never choreographed something like this in my life. I don’t have a single clue where to begin!”

Phichit bit his lips and then pushed them into a grin. It really was exciting that Yuuri was getting back into the skate scene, he reminded himself. It wouldn’t be fair to him to hold onto it forever. His hand involuntarily clenched around the phone as he forced himself to laugh.

“Of course you know how to choreograph something like this, Yuuri, don’t you remember your 21st birthday?”

Twenty-first birthdays were a big deal in America, something Yuuri and Phichit had never quite come to understand. Half the kids started drinking the minute they got to college anyway, and personally, Phichit didn’t really get why they forced themselves to go so hard then either. It wasn’t like it tasted good at all, and it made your face look ridiculous in photos. But their rinkmates had plied Yuuri with enough alcohol to make a regular man fall over, and goodness gracious had it been an unforgettable experience.

Yuuri was still glaring. “You know I don’t remember my 21st birthday.”

Phichit rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows you don’t remember your birthday, Yuuri, but you obviously remember that you had one. We’ve told you stories.” Mostly. He blushed a little and desperately hoped the lighting was bad enough that Yuuri wouldn’t pick up on it. “Anyway, even if you don’t consciously remember it, your body remembers… and let me tell you that your body definitely knows how to dance to [something like this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5Cvvc3jLmM).”

Yuuri covered his face. “Please no more stories!”

Okay, Yuuri blushing Phichit could handle. Much better than himself blushing, and easier to hold it off when he could make fun of his best friend instead. Phichit laughed a little breathlessly, trying to make it sound evil instead, and reminded himself yet again that getting Yuuri back into skating was a good cause, even if he’d never wanted to share this particular memory with anyone.

“I can do one better! Do you remember Julia, the night guard at the skating rink?”

Yuuri nodded.

“Well, she drunk-texted me the other day—” Three years ago totally counted as other. “—and did you know that apparently we weren’t as successful at breaking in as we thought?”

Yuuri’s head slowly tilted to the side and Phichit finally giggled for real at the look on his face, almost a perfect twin to Vicchan when Yuuri tried to get him to talk to Phichit on the phone and he didn’t understand why the little picture was squealing and calling his name.

“Anyway, she was sneaking around too so she didn’t confront us, but she totally got a video of the whole thing. Well, not the whole thing, but enough.”

Julia had forever earned a spot in Phichit’s list of favorite people the instant she sent that confession. Phichit had agreed wholeheartedly and immediately texted her the song in question (which he’d already downloaded the minute they got back to the room and Yuuri passed out). She responded with the video and rocketed to the top of the list, nearly even with Yuuri himself.

His heart pounded.

“Where are you going with this.”

“One second!” Phichit tossed a wink at the camera and tried to quell his shaking finger long enough to scroll through his files. For Yuuri’s future, this was worth it. Even if it would be awkward to watch again now that he knew Yuuri had the video too.

“Okay, it’s loading now. You should get it in a few. I’ve got to go to bed now, but I’ll talk later!” He hung up and collapsed back in his chair with his hand on his heart, as though that could stop the beating.

It wasn’t every day that you got to share video evidence of the exact moment of your sexual awakening with the man who caused it, even if he didn’t know what he was doing at the time. Phichit just hoped Yuuri would continue to remain his beautiful, clueless self.

If not, well, Phichit had a Grand Prix to get to, and an entire country to impress.

 

 

 **Phichit** : CHRISTOPHE! I forgot you!

 **Phichit** : also

 **Phichit** : does victor really hate yuuri?

 **Christophe** : _(…)_

 **Christophe** :

 **Christophe** : _(…)_

 **Phichit** : wow

 **Christophe** : srsly

 

**Yuuri**

 

Yuuri coughed and tucked his hands under his armpits, scurrying up the steps to the ice palace. Nishigori was already waiting in the entry with a clinking grocery bag. He grinned when he saw Yuuri and started waving before scrambling to catch the tilting bag.

“Yuuko is so jealous I’m the one who gets to help you for once! Although I still don’t know what I can actually help with… We both know I’ve never been as much of a skater as you two.”

Yuuri smiled and locked the door behind him, gesturing for Nishigori to follow him to the locker room. Wouldn’t want to risk someone like Victor seeing this!

“The skating part is my problem to worry about… I need your help with the, well, the general feel.”

Nishigori grinned conspiratorially and hefted the bag.

“The _feel_ , is it? Well I’m down for any practice that involves this sort of feeling, if you know what I mean.”

Tying his skates off, Yuuri reached into the bag and grabbed the first one his hand lit upon, popping the cap off and downing half the bottle in one go. Letting out a breath, he braced his hands on his knees and finished the rest, before looking up and meeting Nishigori’s dancing eyes. Grabbing a bottle of his own, Nishigori dropped onto the bench next to him, waving him on.

Yuuri sighed. On with it, then. The liquid courage didn’t seem to be helping much yet, but hopefully that would change soon.

“I can’t choreograph Yura’s routine. Phichit says I’ve done it in the past, but I don’t remember. Can you teach me some of those sexy rock-star moves from your old band days? I’m hoping I can somehow use them to get the right sort of impression for his routine.”

Nishigori looked about as excited as he had on his wedding day, presumably at the idea of anyone in his life finally showing interest in learning how to dance like a rock star, considering his was a skating family above all else. Whipping out his phone, he queued up a playlist.

“Oh, _can_ I!”

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Victor**

 

Victor didn’t remember the first time he saw Yuri skate. He didn’t even remember the moment he knew Yuri had the potential to be a real competitor… but at some point in time he did know, and told him so. Or at least, he thought he had.

He did remember praying that Yuri would join seniors early enough to compete against him. Not that Yuri was his _only_ chance at real competition; he wasn’t that full of himself, and skaters like Christophe did give him a run for his money from time to time, but the fact of the matter was there was a reason Victor was called the Living Legend and the reason was that he kept on winning, to the degree where nowadays people basically expected him to at any given competition. Where _he_ expected him to. Where he’d be surprised if he lost, and news articles would probably come out saying things like his skates were probably breaking down, or he must have been hiding an injury or something.

Honestly, it was starting to grate on him.

It was why he’d played up with changing around his style in the past few years, pushing for different themes and focuses within his pieces in hopes that he could switch things up: push the boundaries of excitement a little, even if it had a negative impact on his scores. Unfortunately, it backfired. If anything, it had only made him better, pushed him even further ahead of the crowds as he grew. And then of course changing up was expected of him, ruining the whole reason why he’d started doing it in the first place.

But now, finally, Yuri was on the precipice of joining seniors, and to be honest at this point he was the only reason why Victor hadn’t retired yet. He’d put together a well-done and yet already boring routine as usual for Yuri’s final year in juniors, dreaming idly that this would be the year Christophe found the next level and they could duke it out in true desperation, or that some other new senior would hit their stride out of nowhere, and already resigning himself to the fact that that it would probably be another empty year, but Yuri was coming.

Of course he knew that some skaters burned out after juniors, living in a flash of glory somehow too bright for their bodies to handle, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t entertain the thought of Yuri being one of them. Yuri was the only skater who’d consistently matched and even surpassed Victor’s own junior scores, and Victor knew in his heart of hearts that he wouldn’t let him down. Sometimes, on days when he really let his mind run away with him, he also dreamed that maybe one of the other skaters out there was just biding his time under the radar. It was possible to blossom after juniors, once you’d hit seniors, and maybe someone would, and he would be The One, and Victor would have a true rival, and that would be even more exciting. But for now, Yuri was where Victor rested his hopes. Yuri could definitely do it, and if anyone else wanted to try, they would have to fight him every step of the way up to Victor.

So when Victor had watched on the TV as Yuri smashed through his junior world record, competing at a level that would have challenged Victor for medals in seniors as well, he’d finally let his heart rush with the anticipation of actually fighting and wondering and questioning whether he would win.

And then he’d walked into the rink and heard the rumors.

It was like Yuri had taken that medal, that record, and all of the glitter of Victor’s hopes and excitement, and formed them into one beautiful, shining knife, which he’d slammed directly into Victor’s gut.

And Yakov had just let him do it.

He sat on the roof of the Onsen, loosely twirling his phone between his hands and considering whether or not to actually call him or just to continue ignoring his emails until he went back to Russia. The idea of leaving Yakov to stew in his juices as payback for letting Yuri go was so appetizing, but the idea of getting the angry part out of the way while he was still in Japan and could just play at a bad connection and hang up the phone was incredibly tempting as well. He hummed and leaned back on his elbows. Then again, that still would require him to actually call and deal with Yakov. He was inching closer and closer to letting it be future Victor’s problem, and to be honest, current Victor had enough problems so that was really darn tempting.

Number one on the list, Yuuri Katsuki, followed closely by this whole Yuri situation. Supposedly the afternoon’s strength training had gone better, but still no choreography for Yuri from what he’d heard.

Apparently he was working on that now. Or at least, he actually was at the ice rink this time instead of messing around at Minako Okukawa’s bar, not that Victor’d gone in to check - no matter what Yuri said he did know how to respect boundaries, and he didn’t even want to see anyone but Yuri doing the choreography so what would be the point? But the lights of the rink had been on and the door was locked so _someone_ was in there at least, so Victor was willing to probationarily trust that Katsuki was maybe, just maybe, taking this seriously.

He thumbed his phone on, gazing at the background. At least Makka seemed to be treating this as a welcome vacation. Maybe he’d take her walking down the beach soon - it was nice to see someone enjoying herself and ignoring all the other stresses around.

…Although he still wasn’t sure how much of a fan he was of the fact that she seemed to be intent on becoming friends with Katsuki. Usually she had a good sense of character, but she’d never gone so far against Victor’s judgment in picking those she liked in the past. Every moment she wasn’t hanging around with Katsuki’s little poodle and Potya (seriously, what was _with_ Potya - she was supposed to _hate_ Makka), she was following Katsuki around.

Victor sighed. This whole situation was making him distrust everyone in his life. Makkachin was allowed to like whoever she wished. Yuri was allowed to like whoever he wished.

It was just… liking someone didn’t necessarily make them the right choice for everything else, didn’t they see that?

A coach needed to be oh, all sorts of things. More than just liking them and doing lots of training and although Victor was a big enough person to admit that the guy did at least seem pretty good at the running and strength training (his traitorous mind brought up the feeling of being caught in the other man’s arms and he shook his head, forcibly ejecting the image - this was not some teen movie with hate turning to passion or anything ridiculous like that), you needed the whole package to be the kind of coach someone at Yuri’s level needed. Dedication, responsibility.

Choreography.

Victor rolled his eyes.

That is, if you wanted to even have a routine to compete with.

He kicked his leg at the stars and thrashed his head and shoulders in a mini-tantrum, trying to shake all his conflicting thoughts out. All this coach stuff was making him think about Yakov again which just reminded him of his own unpleasant responsibilities. Maybe if he made a promise to himself? Alright, he wasn’t allowed to get off the roof until he called Yakov - eventually he’d get tired or cold enough to go in, right?

 

**Yuuri**

 

By the end of the last bottle, Yuuri was relatively shure that he wouldn’t rememember any of it, but luckily he’d thought ahead and video taped the whole practice. Takeshi-kun was convinced that the fin— frin— the last routine was the perfect one for Yura-kun to dance to. Skate to. So they were altogether pretty proud of the process. He grinned and slapped Takeshi-kun on the back a few more times, thanking him profushely for the help. Takeshi-kun grinned and grabbed Yuuri’s bag, swinging it over his shoulder and weaving out of the Ice Palace.

“I’m just so happy that you’re getting back into the skating thing and that you asked me for help— ME, Yuuri-kun! I get to see my rock star moves out there on the ice every single day for the next year and it’s all thanks to you and those kids who followed you here and you you should just steal them because they’re wonderful and kids are wonderful and we can be dads together Yuuri-kun, like best friends!! A friendship bracelet of children!”

He dissolved into giggles as he tried to find the slot with his key to lock up. Yuuri giggled too, grabbing the keys and shoving him aside with a very necessary twirl and flourish.

“It’s a key-off! Best locker wins!”

“I’m the locker then, look, I’m holding your bag!” Takeshi looped the straps over his shoulders and tried zipping his jacket up over it, muttering about how the bag needed to go all the way in to be a proper locker.

Yuuri giggled even harder, finally locking up and trying to grab his bag back, but Takeshi ran off in the direction of the onsen, holding it out of his reach.

“No way! You said I could help you tonight so I’m helping you all the way home!!”

Yuuri gasped in horror, chasing after him.

“I’M the one who works at a hotel, it’s basic hospitality for me to carry the bag!”

Takeshi-kun whooped, ducking and weaving down the sidewalk. “You can carry my keys but I win at hospitalitery tonight, you little monkey! You got no chance against my practice at holding things out of kids’ reach!!”

They were both wheezing by the time they got to the street outside the onsen. Yuuri rested his hands on his knees for a second. Running all the way back after a night of practice took a surprising amount of effort, even using every local shortcut. Probably the only thing that kept them going was the rush of success. Who knew finishing a routine that wasn’t even for him could give him so much energy? Bowing to Takeshi-kun, he snatched the bag back.

“Welcome to Yuu-Topia Katsuki! Thank you for walking me home, shall I walk you home now?”

Takeshi began to nod before he noticed the snorts shaking out of Yuuri’s less-than-composed face and took another moment to process the sentence.

“OI! You go to bed, it’s hours past hours!! Leave a virile young man to walk himself home!”

They both burst into laughter yet again and Yuuri turned to the Onsen, nearly tripping as the moon threw up a sudden silver flash from the roof that caught his eye just enough to make his head not follow his shoulders. Catching himself just in time, he tumbled through the door and loudly shushed Makkachin, who’d come to investigate, before tiptoeing up to bed and congratulating himself on a job well done.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Yuuri**

 

The first time Yuuri woke up it was to the sound of Victor’s alarm from next door, strangely the first time he’d heard it at all this week. Was it always that loud? His head pulsed and he groaned, rolling over and stuffing his face into the pillow and trying to fall back asleep. He could do without food before the run - his stomach probably couldn’t handle it anyway.

Sleep didn’t come easily. For one, Victor _would not snooze_ that grating alarm. It went on for a good fifteen minutes before it finally turned off on its own, and then Makkachin started barking for some reason, and then Vicchan started barking at her until Yuuri blearily stumbled to the door and shoved him out, and all in all it seemed like everything was conspiring against him. He promptly collapsed back into the bed, burrowing his head under the comforter as he did so. Maybe if he held still for long enough it would stop squeezing at his brains.

The second time Yuuri woke up it was to Victor standing in his doorway for the second day in a row, flipping on all the lights at once. This time though, instead of icy words and a quick exit, Victor was accompanied by a tray with the worst smelling combination of breakfast selections Yuuri’d ever encountered, a phone playing techno music, and a still-barking Vicchan. Yuuri’s stomach roiled and he tried to cover his nose and his eyes at the same time.

“YUUUUURI,” Victor positively yodeled, “time for the morning run! I’ve got a playlist already queued up and everything!”

Yuuri shuddered.

“Please get out.”

Victor smiled at him and stuck his fingers in his mouth, emitting a sharp whistle that drilled right through the center of Yuuri’s brain and directly to his core. “Vicchan, Makka, come help Yuuri get ready!”

“No, that’s-”

The dogs came barreling in, clearing the side of the bed in a single leap. Makkachin landed directly on Yuuri’s stomach and he heaved, thanking the heavens that there was nothing in it at the moment. Victor was still waiting at the door.

“I’ll…” Yuuri tried to wave him off with one hand, pushing Vicchan’s face out of his with the other, “I’ll be down in a second.”

There was bound to be pain reliever or something in his desk, right?

 

—

 

“Victor said you didn’t eat anything so I grabbed you a snack!”

Yuuri blinked several times at Minami before registering the hard boiled eggs held out between them, only to be smacked away when Yuri shoved Minami’s hand aside to present his own gift.

“Everyone knows hard boiled eggs are shit so I got you a banana.”

“Yura,” Yuuri muttered, hiding a wince as he accepted both the eggs and the banana. Objectively, he definitely needed something in his stomach, but his brain and gut both were pretty positive that it would vehemently object were he to actually place something in it. Victor pulled the bike up next to him and rang the bell several times.

“I hope your practice was productive last night! You were out so late, you must have been working so hard. I know Yuri’s looking forward to whatever you came up with.”

Yuuri blanched, taking a nibble of the egg if only to stop himself from saying he was looking forward to seeing whatever it was as well. It was better for all involved if Victor didn’t know the full details of the process Yuuri needed to go through to choreograph a routine like that.

 

—

 

The video miraculously came through, and Yuuri truly needed to send Nishigori a box of cakes or something because somehow it was not only a fully completed routine that matched the music and everything, but it was also like literally nothing Yuuri in his sober mind could have choreographed or would probably ever be able to choreograph again. He blushed, watching himself singing and headbanging along with the music as he skated the final iteration of the routine. Thank goodness Yuri wouldn’t be back from breakfast for another thirty minutes or so because he was NEVER showing this to anyone.

Ever.

He tightened his skates. Time to get memorizing!

 

**Yuri**

 

“Look around the corner and try not to scream, it’s meeee!” Yuri whooped, whipping into an attitude turn and promptly tumbling sideways into the bushes when his unsuspecting foot caught on Victor’s equally unsuspecting face. He sputtered, spitting leaves out. Leave it to Victor to mess him up even when he was alone on an empty avenue. “Oi, watch it, old man!!”

“I’m not the one swinging my legs around in front of doorways here!” Victor glared at him from the ground on the front stoop of the onsen, scrubbing at his cheek. “What are you doing back anyway? Did your precious coach run out of choreography again?”

“Oh my _GOD.”_ Yuri rolled his eyes, pushing to a stand and shoving past him. “Can you just let it go already?? We get that you hate him and think he’s going to be a terrible coach, blah blah blah. Grow up, for Christ’s sake.”

God, right when he was getting excited Victor had to come and ruin it all again. Did the man have no life of his own or anything? A hand fell on his shoulder right as Yuri opened the door and he snarled, whipping around and flinging it off, crossing his arms in the process. If that fucker thought he was going to try dragging Yuri back to Russia again because he couldn’t get over his petty agenda, he had another thing coming.

_“What.”_

“Yuri, I’m just trying to look out for you. You don’t understand—”

“No, YOU don’t understand. You’re so busy throwing this _fucking tantrum_ that you don’t even realize how ridiculous it’s making the rest of us look for being associated with you. You’re just lucky there aren’t any press here because you’re doing a downright _shitty_ job at looking like a professional. Be glad Yakov isn’t here or you’d be on time-out for the next _year.”_

Victor’s eyes widened for a split second before he clenched his jaw and straightened his shirt, looking mutinous.

“Well I’m sure the press would find you pretty, what was it that word you like so much? Oh, right, _fucking_ professional right now too.”

Yuri sneered, rolling his eyes. Brilliant comeback. 98.76. Parroting Yuri’s words back at him. Fucking _inspired_.

“Well I guess I’m lucky they aren’t here either. Good for both of us.”

See how adult that sounded, saying polite things to people? He rolled his eyes as he turned back to the door, patting himself on the back for leaving it alone. Just another thing to add to his list for Yakov. He snorted. Maybe Yakov needed to have Victor start a list like that too. Not that he was trying out a new coach or anything, but—

Yuri turned around.

“And for your information, Yuuri completely finished my routine and it’s freakin’ awesome!” Shit, he was grinning again. He hastily wiped it off his face and looked down his nose at Victor. “I’m back now because Yuuri’s working one on one with Minami in the afternoons. Did you not notice him hanging around at all this morning?”

Mic dropped. So did Victor’s jaw. Yuri smirked and finally swept into the Onsen, collecting Potya from her place on the countertop and making his way into his room. “Potya, just wait until you see this routine, it’s exactly what you would be like if you were 200kg heavier!”

 

**Victor**

 

Victor stared after Yuri, completely forgetting where he’d been planning on going. He was sure Yuri thought he was being cool, but the kid was practically skipping through the door, and Victor hadn’t missed the blinding grin earlier, like a kid in a candy shop. He frowned. But he was sure of what he’d seen last night, even if they had been talking in Japanese… especially considering the way Yuuri’d reacted to all his little tests this morning. And doing that two nights in a row? Sure, there was nothing wrong with it in the off season, but Yuuri had less than two weeks to pull two fully formed routines out of his hat, and had clearly not succeeded before now. Commitments like that didn’t get to be sidelined whenever you wanted to cut loose.

But then again, he’d handled the run this morning all right. And if Yuri was telling the truth about his routine…

Reaching up, Victor massaged his temples before grimacing and grabbing his cheeks, smearing them down into jowls like Yakov. He couldn’t deal with this back and forth anymore! Obviously Yuri was telling the truth, he was singing and dancing in the streets. He hadn’t seen the kid that excited since he was just starting to compete. But even if it was done now, he’d clearly been out and about the night before last as well instead of working on the routine and it definitely hadn’t been ready yesterday.

“Arrgh!”

He turned and went back in the Onsen as well, making a beeline toward his room and dialing at the same time. After the third time redialing with no answer, a wall of cheek and the corner of a nose filled his screen.

“Victor, mon salaud, I will literally shoot you if this isn’t important.”

Victor paced in increasingly small circles. Now that he actually had Chris on the phone he didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t really been expecting him to answer after twice ringing to no end. “Christophe, you wound me! Do you mean it?”

Chris sighed into his pillow. “It is four in the morning. Start talking or I hang up.”

“No wait, it’s important! It’s about Yuri and, um, Yuuri Katsuki choreographed his routine but he keeps going out and getting plastered in the evenings and Yuri yelled at me for being rude but I know he’s excited and maybe I am but at the same time I’m just worried because he doesn’t seem to be taking coaching seriously and even if Yuri is excited it might just be because he’s letting himself get carried away but what if I’m not being fair after all?”

Victor let himself trail off as he slowly came to the realization that Chris wasn’t going to stop him. Also he was pretty sure he was starting to repeat himself. Chris did not respond for a good minute after he stopped. Victor was just starting to wonder if he’d fallen back asleep when he finally turned just enough so that one of his eyes entered the screen before opening it a crack and staring directly at the camera.

“…what.”

“Um,” Victor said. Did he want him to repeat it all?

“You’re afraid you’re not bing fair to someone and… wait, which Yuri is excited?”

“Yuri.”

Chris rolled his eye.

“Oh. Yuri Plisetsky. My Yuri. But it’s not like he’s being fair to me either! I’m just trying to look out for him since he doesn’t seem to be doing that himself.”

Chris groaned and rolled onto his back, smacking his hand over his eyes and knocking the phone askew so it showed only the top of his face. Well, actually, that was more than before, so Victor would take it as a positive improvement.

“Okay first of all— hold up, I need to actually look at you for this.”

Victor rubbed his nose and finally sunk to the floor, leaning against his bed and propping his phone on his knees as Chris also worked his way to a sitting position, grabbing his glasses from somewhere and settling them on his nose.

His phone wobbled and he realized his leg was jiggling. He pressed a hand to a knee, consciously trying to stop it. Chris’s light turned on and his face finally filled the screen.

“Okay, first of all, you need to get off your high horse and stop trying to bullshit yourself into thinking that you’re just trying to ‘look out for’ Yuri.”

Victor’s jaw dropped. “But I am—”

Chris held up his hand, giving Victor a look. “He’s not some kind of idiot who just ran halfway across the world without any sort of plan. Clearly, based on what you’ve said, Yakov knows and approves of him coming out here, and it sounds like he was already working on it with Yuuri Katsuki when you guys arrived. Are you trying to imply that your own coach, who practically raised him and has only his best interests at heart, also got ‘carried away’ and doesn’t realize the potential consequences of his actions?”

Victor crossed his arms, pulling his shoulders up and looking away. Technically he didn’t know what Yakov thought as he still hadn’t called him, although he doubted Chris would be particularly sympathetic to that argument.

“Second of all, you need to take a good hard look at why you’re reacting like this in the first place. What’s it to you if Yuri fails or not? Last I heard you weren’t exactly friends. Why are you so focused on taking him away from Yuuri? Are you jealous? Are you scared?”

Victor scoffed. “What would _I_ have to be scared of?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to when you woke me up before I’ve got a filter, mon chou, and don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding the jealousy comment even though it is _obscenely_ early and I shouldn’t be following any of this. You’re jealous of Yuri for knowing what he wants and scared of having to decide what _you_ want.”

Victor ran his hands over his face, sighing and letting his head fall back onto the mattress. As usual, Chris was right. Or right enough, at least.

“I’m not scared of having to decide, I’m scared of the options. I’m tired, Christophe. I don’t know what to do and I can’t… I don’t know. I can’t see the way forward.”

Chris didn’t answer. After a while Victor looked down again, grabbing his phone from where it’d slid facedown on his knees. Chris was staring at the screen intently, worrying his lip between his teeth. He frowned, opening his mouth and closing it twice before finally responding to Victor on the third try.

“Victor, I think you need to call Yakov. He may act rough on the outside but it’s clear from the way he looks at you that he really cares about you. Let him make your decisions until you’ve figured out what you want and you’re ready to do so on your own. Isn’t that what a coach is there for?”

“So just… stop trying to figure out what to do?”

“It’s clear that if you try to force it now you will only suffer more. Stop focusing so hard on this Yuri thing and try to enjoy your vacation. If you can’t see the future, then live in today. Go with the flow, mon cheri. Don’t waste your precious energy tugging yourself every which way over nothing you can control.”

Absently, Victor noted that Makkachin was outside scratching at the door. He couldn’t be sure how long it’d been going on but she was beginning to whine, which she never started out doing. Could he just let Yakov make his decisions? Wouldn’t that just be like giving up altogether?

…Although, he’d been ready to do that before this whole mess anyway and nothing had seemed to work or even feel good about that solution either. Maybe it would be nice to just drift for a bit while Yakov figured out how to fix things.

Christophe craned his neck like he was trying to get a better look at Victor’s face. “Victor? I can let you go now if you’re ready to call Yakov.”

Victor sighed. “I guess it’s time, isn’t it?”

“It’s time. Feel free to call me back afterward if you need to, I’ll answer as long as I’m not at practice.”

At that Victor let Chris go and unfolded himself, getting up to go get Makka before calling Yakov. She scrambled in and made a beeline for his bed, curling up among his pillows. Katsuki’s little Vicchan came along behind her, making his own nest on the other side of the bed and leaving one pillow free between them. Victor stared for a moment, then laughed sheepishly. Well, a little extra support never went amiss - two things to cuddle was better than one, and it’s not like the dog was his owner after all.

 

Christophe Giacometti

 

 **Christophe** : Kick Minami’s ass next week.

 **Yuri** : ?? thats the plan

 **Yuri** : also

 **Yuri** : I know victors been complainign to you

 **Yuri** : cant you convince him to LEAVE ALREADY

 **Christophe** : Just do it.

 **Christophe** : And then kick Victor’s next year.

 **Yuri** : yea ill kick yours too just watch me

 **Yuri** : weirdo

 

-

 

 **Christophe** : Yuuri needs to light a fire in Victor or he’s gone.

 **Phichit** : yikes this must be Big Important if you’re using vowels and punctuation

 **Phichit** : wait

 **Phichit** : like gone gone?

 **Phichit** : DON’T TELL YUURI

 **Phichit** : or he WILL fall apart

 **Christophe** : _(…)_

 **Phichit** : _(…)_

 **Christophe** :

 **Phichit** :

 **Phichit** : _(…)_

 **Phichit** : we should be good tho?

 **Phichit** : yuuri tends to light all sorts of fires ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

 **Christophe** : _(…)_

 **Christophe** : k

 **Phichit** : sorry that was prob not cool considering your worries

 **Phichit** : seriously tho

 **Phichit** : trust in yuuri

 **Phichit** : it will all work out

 **Christophe** : gspr b1

 **Phichit** : …what

 **Christophe** : Sorry.

 **Christophe** : I hope so.

 **Phichit** : you know it’s okay you don’t need to actually use grammar for me

 **Phichit** : I’ll see what I can do about yuuri

 **Christophe** : mr6

**Mila**

 

Mila yawned, dragging herself into the rink. She was seriously gonna kill Georgi if he didn’t stop constantly texting about Anya at all hours of the morning - good god, because of that loser she was actually early to practice. He knew that she never turned off her alerts in case of prime gossip but that didn’t mean that every little thing about his new girlfriend was prime. More like past its prime, if anything.

Overprime… prime ripe? Whatever, practice didn’t start till seven and it was still only like 6:45. She could totally still be sleeping. Yakov’s voice came rumbling out of his office and she almost popped in to say hi (and maybe rub it in his face a little that she could so wake up early) when his words stopped her in her tracks.

“Yes, I just got off the phone with Vitya.”

 _Oooh_.

Mila jerked backward, ducking out of sight and settling in along the wall. No way was she interrupting Yakov now - this had too much potential to be interesting and he definitely wouldn’t talk if he knew she was there.

Nobody responded, but Yakov was speaking again.

“Yes, he did do that. I only have so much say in that boy’s life!”

He burst out into uproarious laughter and Mila’s mouth opened in silent realization. He must be on the phone. Talking about… Yuri? Victor?

“Now that is true. How did you… ah yes, I forgot about that. These kids and their apps. You may still be young enough to keep up but I can’t follow these things!”

Mila snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. That was an understatement. Yakov could barely even text, let alone use apps.

“Ah, well, he needs excitement and this will provide more of that. There’s no mystery when you train together.” Yakov hummed as the person on the other line responded. “You might be surprised!”

Not training together… he was totally talking about Yuri. Mila whipped out her phone and turned it on silent, starting a text to him.

“Yes, but what I’ve seen is promising.”

She grinned, deleting the last word and writing ‘promising’ instead. Sure, maybe he was talking about someone other than Yuri but she had probable cause to believe it might be him, and also a little bit of encouragement wouldn’t hurt his chances in his weird little hometown competition. A heavy thump sounded from Yakov’s office, like he’d just dropped something big, but no exclamation followed. Sitting down, maybe? When he spoke up again his voice sounded strained.

“He’s not in a good way. I got him to promise not to touch a pair of skates for two weeks, we’ll see if that works.”

Mila’s fingers stilled, text to Yuri still unsent. That… no, that didn’t sound right. Nothing good ever came of sentences like ‘not in a good way’ and ‘not allowed to skate’ in this line of work. Was somebody injured? The only two people she could think of in relation to a call with Victor were Victor and Yuri and both of those would be really bad.

“We’ll see. I know you wanted him to come home for a bit, but I don’t know if that’s the right course at this point.”

That didn’t help - Yuri’s grandpa and Victor’s parents were both potentially in the picture. Yakov grunted. “Yes, too dangerous.”

Argh, _what_ was Yakov going on about???? Like, yeah usually she didn’t care about how much information she got as long as she was in the know on rumors but this half-story thing was just so much _worse_. Yuri was friends with Mila, right? Like, he considered them friends? Probably? He would totally tell Mila if something had happened, right?

“Well he finally asked for help, so that’s something.”

Great, that didn’t sound like either of them. Real helpful, Yakov.

“I know, me too. It’s hard to watch. I’ll be trying my best.”

Yakov moved into goodbyes after that - talking to two people from the sounds of it, so Victor maybe? She heard him rustling as he presumably got up from his chair and moved to his desk. Wait, yikes - she jumped and shook herself, scrambling away down the hallway as silently as she could. This definitely wasn’t something she wanted Yakov to know that she’d heard.

 

 

 **Mila** : _(…)_

 **Yuri** : omg mila

 **Yuri** : oh ur typing already

 **Yuri** : did u want smthg?

 **Mila** : (…)

 **Mila** : no

 **Mila** : u guys ok?

 **Yuri** : victors annoyin g but thats nothing new

 **Yuri** : but my routine is the LITERAL BEST

 **Yuri** : yuuri wants me to use it as my expo next season but im totally goign sp

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Victor**

 

 **Christophe** : tOK? tk 2 ykv?

 **Victor** : da

 **Victor** : _(…)_

 **Christophe** : _(…)_

 

Victor avoided everyone for the entire evening after getting off the phone with Yakov. Not on purpose, necessarily, but he spent the afternoon sort of just lying in his room staring at the ceiling, and by the time Makka got up and told him she needed to go out, it was long past dinner and everyone had retired to their own separate areas. He sighed and tucked his hands into his armpits, tactfully looking away to watch the birds while Makka found a good place to do her business. The seagulls were nice to look at. A little smaller than the ones back home, but still probably the only thing that even felt vaguely familiar to being in St. Petersburg.

…Was ‘home’ in St. Petersburg? By now, probably, though it didn’t quite evoke the feelings home should. Maybe he should go visit his parents for a while after he was done here. It hadn’t really been his home in a while, but nothing could beat having his mama to hug him tight. They could go to the Ice Speedway like when he was little. One of the gulls screeched and dove at another, fighting over a brightly colored wrapper of some sort.

No gulls in Novosibirsk though. Would he miss them?

He must have gotten entranced, because the next thing he felt was Makka’s nose at his hip as she gazed up at him with a concerned look on her face. It felt weird putting a smile on his face for someone as close as Makka, not when he knew she’d love him no matter what he was feeling inside, but he did it anyway, patting her gently on the head. After all, he thought bitterly, he couldn’t disappoint Yuri by actually showing real emotions. Like it or not Victor had a role to fill, ever since he started winning all those years ago and ceased to be a human being. He was used to hiding his feelings in public anyway. Legends didn’t have feelings.

Makka whuffed at him and made a beeline back to their room. Victor’s smile turned genuine for a brief second in gratitude as he trailed behind her. He should never have doubted her - even though she’d sometimes come down too hard on the side of friendliness when he didn’t want to be making friends on this trip, she would never truly abandon Victor in his hour of need.

He still didn’t know how to feel about his promise not to skate for the rest of his time in Japan. Not that he had skated at all yet, because he hadn’t, or that he’d even planned on skating, because he couldn’t really tell if he’d done that either, but it still felt weird promising not to. Like a commitment to a thing when he was just floating along before.

And well, he’d expect a commitment to not skating to be weird, sure, but somehow it was… more of a relief than anything? Which he wasn’t sure how to feel about either. After years of dedicating his life to skating, never taking a vacation unless forced, it almost felt like he was betraying the very core of his being to feel relief at being asked to take a break this time.

He fell back onto his bed, grabbing at the sheets and twisting them around his wrists and fingers in ever-increasing knots. Was his relief a sign that he was supposed to retire? Or was the guilt about being relieved a sign that he wasn’t ready to retire? He absently tugged at the edge of the twist, wondering how long he could wring at them before they started to rip. Makka got up from where she had settled at his feet and gently grabbed the most twisted portion of the sheet, stopping him from worrying at it further and lying down on his legs, resting her chin on his hands. Victor sighed and wiggled one hand around until it was facing sideways so he could rub the soft bit right under her chin with his knuckle. Makka sighed back, blowing the warm air up toward his face and eventually they both fell asleep that way.

He woke up the next morning when the boys were getting ready (really it was impossible for Yuri to be quiet, and Minami wasn’t much better), but Makka fluttered her eyelids at him and shifted slightly so her head was all the way on his chest, so he threaded the hand that had gotten free in the night into her curls and closed his eyes again, listening vaguely to the running about until it lulled him back to sleep, or at least to a light doze. His thoughts came lurking up again while he tried to fall the rest of the way to sleep, but even the idea that getting up might drown them out wasn’t enough to make him face the day just yet.

Eventually the house was quiet again, and it stayed that way for just long enough for Victor to doze deeper for a while and then start waking up for real, at which point he became aware of a gentle tapping at his door. He blinked at it for a few seconds, wondering whether he’d slept in long enough that everyone was back from practice. No, Makka wouldn’t let him do that - she’d eventually need to pee. She was getting up now and heading toward the door, and he slowly sat up, distantly noticing that he hadn’t even made it out of yesterday’s clothes or under the covers. The door slid open at Makka’s muted whuff and Victor blinked again.

Of all the people he was expecting to be standing on the other side, Hiroko Katsuki, holding a tray with a steaming bowl of rice porridge and a delicate cup of tea, was not one of them. His mouth fell slightly open and he stared at her as she traded places with Makka, coming in to set the tray on his desk while Makka made her way down the hallway, presumably to find someone to let her out. He drew his knees up to his chest and thanked her, expecting her to turn around and leave right away, but she paused, hovering in front of him with a concerned look on her face.

“Are you feeling well?”

It was very sweet of her to ask, but the reason why Victor hadn’t told anyone beyond Yakov and Chris about this whole thing was to avoid this very sort of question. Talking about his struggles would only make it more real and he was dealing fine without going back and digging into every little fear he had anyway. Yakov and Chris already knew the situation and they were the kind of people who could be tactful when they needed to, and knew to let Victor come to them when he wanted to, but really he didn’t need to. That’s what Makka was for: everything else. Hiroko’s eyebrows went up, coming together at the top, and she pursed her bottom lip.

“If there is anything I can do…”

Victor smiled and opened his mouth to tell her that everything was fine and she could go but a choking sob came out instead, and suddenly he found tears pouring down his face as though the entire ocean had transplanted from its berth outside and was now exiting through his tear ducts instead. He let his head fall to his bent knees as he tried to catch his breath, his whole body shaking from the force of the sobs. It wasn’t fair that he had to know everything he wanted and be strong all the time and just because he was supposed to be older and more mature than Yuri and everyone else it didn’t mean that he didn’t have those emotions too, that he didn’t freak out before competitions or struggle to produce the right routines each year or get overwhelmed by all the paparazzi who were fans too and expected him to remember them year after year and, and—

He felt a warm hand come to rest on his back and he turned around in one ungainly tumble, flinging himself into Hiroko’s arms and burying his face in her shoulder as his whole life came bursting out of him in a mixture of English and Russian and half-formed words and gibberish altogether, years of everything he ever wanted to tell his mama but hid so she wouldn’t worry about him all alone in St. Petersburg, and everything he ever told Yakov and Chris but they tried to fix instead of just listening, and everything he’d been yanked back and forth by on this whole trip and throughout his career that he’d never even dream of telling a single soul in case they judged him for something wrong or lacking in his purest depths of character, and, and, and, Hiroko cooed back at him in a mixture of Japanese and English and rubbed his shoulder blades like his mama used to when he was little and ruffled his hair and every time she did the tears came harder until a good thirty or forty minutes had passed and he found himself hiccuping a bit but on the whole all dried out.

To be honest, even though that whole mess was the exact opposite of what he wanted, afterward everything seemed to come a lot easier throughout the day. Mama Hiroko gently prodded him through washing his face and getting ready and didn’t even mention anything about the snot all over her shoulder, simply draping an extra hand towel to cover it until later in the day when he turned around and she was in clean clothing and he hadn’t even noticed her slipping away to change. Other than that lost moment and a few times he went to the restroom he couldn’t even place a time when she wasn’t with him, teaching him how to do various tasks around the onsen, guiding him through chopping the vegetables for lunch, letting him dry up while she washed the dishes, and so forth, until he looked up to find Toshiya setting dinner for three out on the little table in the dining room.

He frowned and checked the clock, then around the corner of the dining room, but Yuuri and the boys were still at their evening practice.

“No, no!” Toshiya smiled, guiding him to sit. “For us!”

Victor looked around curiously to find Hiroko placing a pitcher into his hands as she picked up the rest of the meal and ushered him out before her into the other room. Dinner was a quiet affair; Victor still didn’t speak any Japanese besides please and thank you and a few things Hiroko kept saying to him that seemed like they might mean things like “over here” or “like this” or “after you” and he was pretty sure Toshiya’s knowledge of English was greater than that but not necessarily by much, and anyway he was occupied by sneaking treats to Makkachin. Hiroko seemed content to have a quiet dinner beyond explaining to Victor that Toshiya also snuck food to Vicchan and that he could stop him anytime he wanted if it wasn’t alright to do the same for Makkachin, which Victor assured her Makka would appreciate just fine.

On the whole, the quiet was surprisingly soothing, like a balm to his tired soul. Meals were never quiet with Yakov’s crew, and they definitely weren’t quiet back home with his parents, but they were oppressively silent alone in his apartment to the point where half the time he played videos on his phone just to distract him from the fact that he was eating bland food alone in the dark. This was a happy medium - enough background noise and utterances to pass various things around, but not so much that it was overwhelming to his still strained nerves. The last bits of whatever had been slowly unwinding in Victor throughout the day finally dug themselves out of his spine and his shoulders started shaking, free enough of the tension to lose the adrenaline that had been holding them still throughout the day.

Both of the Katsukis clearly noticed, sharing looks and a quiet exchange in Japanese. Toshiya got up to collect the dishes and Hiroko stopped Victor before he could do the same, guiding him to the door and hooking Makka up to her leash, handing it to Victor and suggesting he go down to the beach to finish unwinding while they prepared for the boys to come back. Victor’s heart gave a quick little stutter; he hadn’t realized just how much he did not want to see any of them until she’d given him an out, and he was halfway to the beach within minutes.

 

**Yuuri**

 

The onsen was quiet when Yuuri and the boys got back from their strength training. Victor must still have been holed up in his room - at this point he hadn’t seen him since what, yesterday morning? During their run? To be honest, Yuuri wasn’t sure if he liked the pouting more or less than the cutting words. On the one hand, it was nice not to have his idol looking him in the face and constantly insulting him, but on the other hand, this way it just felt like he was right at the peak of a jump that he could already tell he’d misjudged: waiting for the crash and desperately hoping he could salvage it somehow.

Mari flopped down on the mat next to Yuuri, snatching a bite from his plate. “Just a warning, Kaa-san’s being particularly mothery today.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno, she just keeps giving me these Looks, and followed your boy around all day long.”

Yuuri frowned. It shouldn’t surprise him that Victor would come out during the day, but somehow it did, and worse, he wasn’t sure he liked it. Was Victor avoiding just him? His mental spin took half a revolution closer to the ice, inches - and miles - away from the landing. He tried to catch his mom’s eye but she spent most of dinner bustling around the kitchen and he didn’t manage to get her until the boys were already on their way out to the side TV room.

“How was your day? I hear you spent it with… Victor?”

As Phichit would say: so sue him, he was a little curious. You didn’t spend your whole life following a man’s every move only to ignore him when he was finally staying in your house, no matter how rude he’d turned out to be. His mom pursed her lips.

“He’s… feeling a little homesick, so please be nice.”

Yuuri’s jaw dropped. “Be nice? Kaa-san, he’s the one who’s not being nice to me!”

He squeaked on the end of his sentence, realizing what he’d just said. Shoot, he hadn’t actually told his family that anything was going poorly yet - he’d been hoping to get through it without having to admit to them that he’d somehow disappointed his biggest idol beyond all reconciliation. His mom gave him a Look and Mari hissed _“told you so,”_ ducking aside as she walked him to the door.

“Yes, well, he’s been under some stress. Speaking of stress, why don’t you take Vicchan out? He’s been antsy today without your usual walk.”

Before he knew it he was standing outside the front door, holding a leash in one hand and a pair of mittens in the other, even though there was already a pair of gloves stuffed in his pocket. It had been useless to argue, and, well, an extra pair of gloves to carry around was worth it in the grand scheme of finally getting away for some quiet time.

Especially since he could already hear the boys arguing over the couch through the side window. It seemed like the only thing they didn't argue about were which movies to watch every evening, and that was awkward enough because they kept picking ones that Yuuri's old routines were pulled from. He shuddered. That alone would be bad enough but he they would always watch him with starry eyes whenever his song came on in the movie and he couldn’t stand one more moment of the ants crawling up his back when they kept staring or the arguing that was sure to come before, after, or even during the rest of the movie.

He looked down at Vicchan and raised his eyebrows. Vicchan yipped back and spun a few tight circles next to him. Off to the beach it was.

 

—

 

Vicchan started wiggling more than usual as they got closer to the beach, straining at the end of his lead. Yuuri laughed, turning his back to the water to crouch down next to him.

“You really did miss this, didn’t you?”

He reached over to unhook the leash and Vicchan went suddenly, perfectly still, pointing his nose directly behind Yuuri. Confused, he turned to glance at the sand only to notice a figure lying there, drawn and pale like a piece of driftwood that had been knocking around the sea for years before washing its way onto the sand. His heart jack-knifed and for a split second he thought he’d finally found a body like in all of Mari’s late-night dramas when the body in question shifted, bringing a hand up to shade its eyes from the sun, and he realized he was looking at Victor.

In his defense, this Victor wasn’t the stately marble Yuuri was accustomed to seeing on the television, nor was he the barbed-wire-and-steel edged smile of Hasetsu. This Victor was eggshell porcelain and his grandmother’s bone china. He looked ready to shatter at a moment's notice, or like he'd possibly already shattered and been poorly put back together. It wasn't exactly hard to see why Yuuri had thought this faded shade was a dead body - nothing about him had any semblance of life, and he almost imagined that, were he to come closer, he might also see the tracks of veins like skating trails etched below his icy pale skin.

No.

No, Victor could not be here, not in Yuuri’s space, on his beach, this wasn’t fair and he couldn’t deal with this today, not after finally having a halfway decent day at practice, it wasn’t _fair_ , no matter how poetic and beautiful he was. _Especially_ because Yuuri still found him beautiful. He turned around to leave but Vicchan planted his feet, sniffing at Makkachin, who was further down the shoreline chasing waves. Yuuri tugged uselessly at him a few more times before his eyes snapped back to Victor. His hand was shaking in the brisk air as it hovered above his face. Something about it looked… almost too vulnerable for Yuuri to be comfortable watching. Like he needed to put up a screen for Victor’s sake or something.

Yuuri shook his head, clenching his jaw. Why was he even lying in the sand anyway? It was his own darned fault if he was cold. Yuuri’s left hand clenched around the balled up gloves stuffed in his pocket. It gripped harder of its own accord, practically compressing the gloves to nothing before he finally closed his eyes and sighed. Crouching down, he unhooked Vicchan, who immediately made a beeline for Makkachin and the waves.

He had grown up in the hospitality profession, after all.

Stepping onto the sand he made his way over to stand next to Victor, pulling the gloves free in the same movement and dropping them on his chest without looking. He crammed his hands back in his pockets and silently turned to watch the dogs chase the waves.

Victor rustled at his feet and let out a soft sound of surprise before reaching into Yuuri's field of vision and trying to offer the gloves back.

"You don't… you don’t have to, I mean, I'm..."

Still staring steadfastly at the ocean, Yuuri pulled his hands out of his pockets and held them up to show off his mittens. Victor fell silent again.

He watched the dogs for a few more minutes but Victor still didn’t get up or say anything. Yuuri curled his tongue against the roof of his mouth. If Victor expected him to be the first to talk he had another thought coming because Yuuri had done nothing wrong thus far and this beach was public anyway. Besides, if he didn’t say anything then Victor wouldn’t have anything to pick apart, right?

He shifted from foot to foot. Vicchan seemed to be content to play for a while yet, the little traitor. No, he twisted his lips, if he ended up having to leave then Victor would be the traitor. He had no right or ability to force Yuuri’s dog to go home early when he was trapped indoors all day long just because Victor was out here too, and if he thought that Yuuri would cow down just because Victor might be more accomplished he could take that thought and shove it because Yuuri was the champion of digging in his heels. Victor could deal with Yuuri and Vicchan sharing the beach - anyway, it was theirs first.

Decided, he crossed his arms and dropped to sit on the sand next to Victor, who was sitting up now. Victor’s only response was a quick intake of breath before he wrapped his arms around his knees, darting a glance sideways at Yuuri and then staring out at the waves as well. Well Victor could suck it, because Yuuri wasn’t going anywhere or saying a word, no matter how many snide glances he wanted to send Yuuri’s way.

In the end, Victor didn’t say anything. By the time Vicchan came back and started wanting to go home Yuuri had lost some of the tension and could almost relax, despite his presence. He wouldn’t necessarily call it comfortable, per se, but it wasn’t… bad. He stood up and Victor jumped again. He sure was twitchy today.

Yuuri briefly considered saying something but his vocal chords were too disengaged and it seemed like too much effort. Instead he glanced down at Victor and jerked his chin toward the onsen, clipping Vicchan up to go. By the time they got to the edge of the sidewalk Victor and Makkachin had caught up and they all made their way back in peace.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Yuuri**

 

Yuuri rubbed his temples, grabbing Vicchan and ducking out of the onsen before Yuri or Minami could find him. Hero-worship was an interesting new experience and all, but being fought over constantly could be a bit overwhelming after a while no matter how much he tried to separate them into their own practices. If anything, that only made it worse in the times when they were together, since they still hadn’t gotten it out of their systems.

Victor was at the beach again but at this point Yuuri didn’t even mind as long as the boys weren’t. If it was anything like yesterday, at least he would be quiet. Plus, he didn’t treat Yuuri like a god. It was easier to get over the fear of disappointing someone when they already expected you to fail. Disappointing kids who expected you to be literal perfection was… well, there was a lot further to fall.

He nodded at Victor and dropped to sit next to him, like yesterday. Victor’s eyebrows climbed but he nodded back. As one, they turned to gaze out at the waves again. The ebbing and flowing was at the perfect rhythm to breath with, a meditation technique he’d practiced since he was small. Yuuri focused on them, beginning the process to empty his mind.

One of the seagulls screeched at the exact volume and tone Minami had this morning during their run when Yuri had somehow managed to distract him long enough that he’d been left behind at the traffic light while they crossed.

Yuuri sighed, starting over.

Victor shifted beside him. Yuuri’s fingers twitched. He glanced to his left out of the corner of his eye to find Victor doing the same thing back. He jerked his gaze back toward the ocean. The color reminded him of Victor’s costume from his short program last year and he just barely caught himself before he could start humming it, his face burning up like Mari’s attempts at hotpot.

Okay, so maybe the wave thing was a lost cause.

He turned to Victor and opened his mouth. “Are—"

“I’m—” Victor said at the same time.

They both stopped, awkwardly looking anywhere except at each other. Yuuri bit his lip, oddly resentful of Victor for choosing now of all times to talk to him, right when he’d just built up the courage to do so himself, or at least gotten fed up enough with the silence. He pulled at his thumbnail and sighed, waving at Victor to continue. He’d rather be able to react to anything Victor said than leave himself open by making the first move.

Victor rubbed his mouth and gave Yuuri a pleading look. Nope, that wasn’t gonna work. Victor had not earned any lenience from Yuuri yet. He raised his chin, pressing his lips together. Finally Victor sighed.

“Vicchan… seems like he enjoys the beach?”

It didn’t sound like what Victor had been about to say - Yuuri was pretty sure he’d started with “I’m” the first time around, but he nodded anyway.

“You too— I mean, Makkachin… looks like she has a lot of energy.” He winced at how lamely that had come out, but Victor didn’t seem to notice, as he was already nodding along.

Yuuri nodded back and they both lapsed into silence again. Yuuri tumbled around inside his mind, trying to figure out what was going on this time. It didn’t really seem like Victor was playing games with him but everything was just so… awkward. He glanced at Victor again and suddenly realized he hadn’t seen even a fake smile in the last couple of days, let alone a real one at all. Eventually Victor spoke up again.

“You can bring her on your morning runs, I mean, if you want. If you need, ah, company that’s not so aggressively… um.”

Yuuri snorted. Aggressive was a good way to describe either of the boys, with Minami being both aggressively friendly and optimistic, and Yuri just being aggressive. He licked his lips, gazing at the dogs. Victor really did seem to value them both, and Vicchan liked him back. He turned to Victor, who was watching him with a nervous expression.

“Vicchan likes to ride in the basket of the bike, if you wanted to come too.”

Victor’s jaw dropped and he blinked several times, looking around a little jerkily before snapping his jaw back shut and nodding.

“Um... I, if you want… I can, that is… probably fine?”

It almost sounded like he was asking a question or being forced into something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do, the way he trailed off, but Yuuri figured he’d let it slide, considering Victor hadn’t actually said anything terribly bad in the last few days, not that they’d actually talked to each other at all. He suddenly realized he’d been sitting there nodding for a good ten seconds and shook himself. Victor was still watching him, so he rubbed his nose, pushing his glasses up his face, and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, that. Would be fine.”

Hopefully Victor didn’t know him well enough yet to realize that his voice was slightly higher than normal. Honestly, the idea of having Victor along was a little intriguing in terms of possibly distracting the boys. Worse came to worst, he could make one of them run with Makkachin and one with Victor, keeping himself separate and alone. He tilted his head, considering. Or he could run next to Victor, if this whole hanging out and not talking to each other thing kept working out.

Anyway, there were options, and the more options the better.

They didn’t really talk much more after that. The level of awkwardness was high enough that it would have been too much of a hurdle to try and start a new conversation, but it did mark one more time where they’d successfully hung out without insulting each other, or, well, anything else, really. They walked back to the onsen together again, still in silence.

 

**Victor**

 

Victor shifted his weight again, staring at the bedroom door for a few seconds before finally muttering a soft curse and flinging his bedroom door open, stalking into the hallway at the same time as Yuri, who jumped and then leaned in closer, opening his mouth presumably to hiss something angry at him. He in turn was interrupted by Yuuri, who stepped out his room, yawned, and nodded at Victor with a neutral hello. They both smiled and nodded back, and the minute Yuuri turned away Yuri pointed his fingers at his eyes and then at Victor, whipping around and stalking his way to the kitchen to grab his pre-run snack.

Once they got out to the sidewalk Victor held back as Yuuri hooked Makka up to a leash and hoisted Vicchan into the bike’s basket, flashing him a brief smile.

Was this a mistake? Should he be doing this? Yuri was still glaring from the corner and Victor shrunk back, almost ready to turn around again when Minami came out and Yuri’s glare snapped to him instead. Vicchan yipped and Victor smiled uncertainly at him. Maybe he’d just plan to hang back and keep a safe distance at all times.

Yuuri waved at him to lead the way.

**Yuuri**

 

Yuuri let himself fall back. Everyone but Vicchan and Makkachin seemed uncomfortable, but with every unhappy glance back from the two boys at Yuuri and Makka’s fully occupied sidewalk space he was validated yet again that this was the right decision. Finally, he could enjoy the quiet meditation that rose from the rhythm tapping feet. He joined Vicchan in raising his face to the wind and let the whispers of the boys ahead wash over him.

“—just give up now—”

Oh no. The moment was about to end, wasn’t it?

“—advantage because he’s clearly more familiar with my skating.”

“So what? Anyone can come from behind and win, and anyway your attitude stinks!”

“Then good thing the only thing that matters in the big league is skill, Sixth Place.”

“Oh really? Not the fact that the judge clearly wants you to lose so you go back to Russia?”

“VICTOR WOULDN’T—”

Yuuri didn’t get a chance to hear what Victor wouldn’t do because at that moment the boys boy ran headlong into his bike, which was stopped at the crossroads to a red light. Yuuri scrambled to grab Makkachin’s collar before she jumped into the pileup as well, reeling them both to a stop to stare helplessly at the steaming boys and the bemused Victor, who was bracing Vicchan and staring at them with both eyebrows about as high as they could go.

“I wouldn’t what?”

Yuri flushed red and Minami looked away, adjusting his shirt. Yuuri sighed, gritting his teeth. Part of a coach’s job was to smooth over their skaters’ rough edges, right? Victor raised his eyebrows, setting his bike upright and dusting off the seat.

“I believe,” Yuuri cast his mind around, taking in the boys’ wide eyes and the sudden terror in both of their expressions. “I believe he’s suggesting that you wouldn’t let any… familiarity you have with Yura’s skating over Minami’s affect your judgment.”

“Oh!” Victor grinned at the boys, turning toward them as he did so, though not quite enough for Yuuri to escape the initial blinding beam of his smile, the first actually warm one he’d seen out of Victor in person. “No, of course I’ll be watching all of Minami’s past videos as well!”

Minami squeaked and Yuri scowled, though it was slightly offset by the faint tinge of pink on his cheeks and the relieved release of tension around his eyes as they darted Yuuri’s way.

“After all,” Victor reached out and smacked Yuri’s back, then Minami’s. “We’re all in this together!”

Yuuri snorted, clapping a hand over his mouth. Was that a quote from Secondary School Musical? How on earth had Victor gotten into American Straight-to-TV movies?? Yuri and Minami looked confused but Yuuri couldn’t resist throwing in his own reference - after all, he’d seen the movie how many times with Phichit? Letting go of Makka’s collar, he clapped his hands together and grinned at them, pointing at the now green light.

“Alright then boys, get your head in the game!”

Victor jerked his chin around and briefly stared right into Yuuri’s eyes, surprise written across his face, before he got a hold of himself and spun away, hopping on the bike and pedaling forward to take the lead, the back of his neck vaguely pink.

Letting out a soft cuss, Yuri scrambled after him with Minami close behind. Okay, maybe it was turning into a bit of a skating family after all. Yuuri kept grinning, remembering years fighting with Mari in much the same manner as the two boys.

He grimaced. Except, of course, for the part where he was supposed to be the responsible one this time around.

 

**Victor**

 

After being invited on the morning run, Victor’s day went relatively the same as the last two in the intervening hours before everyone got back that evening. Sure, Yuri and Minami were trading off being around, but he didn’t see them much while he was working at the onsen with Hiroko and Toshiya. Somehow, though, today was still a better day than the other two had been - not that he wasn’t still caught up in the fog that had taken him over since he got off the phone with Yakov, but maybe it was starting to lighten a bit. He found himself humming songs from Secondary School Musical as he wiped down the dishes - he still couldn’t believe that Yuuri had gone along with that. It almost made him want to try quoting new movies on future runs, just to see if Yuuri would continue to surprise him.

Hiroko and Toshiya seemed to notice Victor was functioning a little better as well; they didn’t set up a dinner early for the three of them, instead all of them waiting for the boys to get back to eat together. After dinner, Victor grabbed both dogs’ leashes and tilted his head at Yuuri, who unfolded from the table and joined him at the door, tasking the boys to help his parents with the dishes.

Almost a week had passed since Victor arrived and he was finally feeling like he might be able to make it the rest of the way through.

 

—

 

They fell into this schedule over the next couple of days as well. It turned out Yuuri had in fact recognized most of his quotes, and even though they didn’t talk much on the runs beyond the one-off quote exchanges, he’d whistled along for a good two minutes with the song from The Parent Ploy this morning, which hadn’t that been a fun surprise? Especially when Victor glanced back to grin at him and caught the look on Yuri’s face as he heard it echo up from both front and back.

They were slowly starting to actually converse on their walks with the dogs as well, and before he knew it the Onsen on Ice was only a day away and he’d somehow made it two weeks without ice skating once.

Victor yawned and rubbed his nose, watching Vicchan run in circles around Makkachin.

“So I’ve been meaning to ask. Do you just ride in circles with Vicchan in your bike basket, or do you take him places?”

Yuuri laughed, scuffing his foot in the sand.

“Oh, I don’t know if I ever ride the bike just to ride it, unless Vicchan is feeling particularly down and needs the feel of the wind in his face, but I do take him to the rink every once in a while. I started it when he was just a puppy and he kind of insisted that I continue.”

Vicchan did have a bit of an demanding personality at times; Victor had noticed this over the past week or so. He grinned as Makka rolled over on her back, presenting the underside of her throat at Vicchan in mock defeat during their little tuffle.

“Insisted on coming? I can’t imaging there’d be much for him to do at the rink, other than just lay around on the cold concrete floor. Makka hates coming to the rink in Russia; she only likes lying on pillows.”

“Well, she is a little bigger than Vicchan.” Yuuri grinned. “So I guess she doesn’t get the same benefits out of it as he does.” He giggled, gazing at the dogs. “Vicchan loves skating, not just hanging out at the rink.”

Victor blinked several times. He’d seen dog shoes and sweaters; he loved them, Makka wore them all the time. Once even he’d put her in specialty snowshoes for a photoshoot, but he was pretty sure they weren’t actually a real thing. Dog skates, though? That seemed kind of… dangerous. Did dogs even have the coordination to skate?

Yuuri was laughing full out now at the look on Victor’s face.

“It’s like the bike,” he explained. “Vicchan loves the wind in his face, so we used to carry him in our arms while we skated so he got the wind on his face while gliding around too. Nowadays he’s fine with pretty much everything except the jumps and really fast spins.”

Victor winced at the idea of spinning really fast with a small dog in your arms, and the cleanup that would almost inevitably follow. Not to mention the danger of dropping him on a poorly-landed jump.

“Yeah, I can see why you wouldn’t want to do either of those with a dog.”

He thought for a moment about whether he could carry Makka on the rink. Sometimes it worked to hold her up if you got a hand under her buns and her two front paws on your shoulders while she looked behind, but he supposed that way you’d only be able to skate backwards to give her the full experience of wind in her face. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but would Yakov even let him try? He grinned at the thought of asking Yakov if he could brink Makka to the rink to try skating. Honestly, Yakov himself would be the best bet to carry her, being so large and all… he almost wanted to see what would happen if he ask when he got back to Russia. He imagined the look on Yakov’s face would be priceless. And Georgi and Mila’s faces at Victor asking Yakov to do such a thing?

Yuuri tilted his head at Victor and he waved his hand.

“Sorry, just imaging doing the same thing with Makka.”

Yuuri winced. “Yes, she might need two people to carry her at once.”

“Would that be pairs skating, or triples, at that point?” Victor mused. They both looked at each other and dissolved into giggles so overwhelming Victor almost felt like he was going to physically float away in the bubbles of sound - he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard. The dogs came running over, both of them barking and jumping on their respective owners. Victor’s knees buckled and he landed in the sand, only to have his face vigorously licked by Makka while Vicchan nibbled at his chin.

“Ahh! Help!”

Yuuri just laughed harder, making no move to aid him. Victor stuck out his tongue at him before realizing his mistake and hastily reclaiming it as Makka went for that instead. Did he really have to go back in two days?

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Victor**

 

The boys were already gone when Victor woke up on the big day. A quick conference with Hiroko confirmed that Minami had apparently not slept all night and gone tearing out to the rink sometime around four in the morning, and Yuri wasn’t much later, booking it about a half an hour later. Yuuri himself had already been gone, or possibly not even made it back the night before. Hiroko wasn’t too clear on the details and Toshiya couldn’t bring any more light to the matter.

Victor was only judging though, so for once in his life he got to take his time getting ready for a skating competition. Or at least, that’s what he thought until the door slammed open to show Yuuko’s triplets with an army of beauty products and a megaphone. He managed to slow them down a little bit, especially when they all disagreed on which outfit he should wear for the day, but they still arrived at the rink before lunchtime.

When they got there, crowds were already gathering, though the competition didn’t start for two hours yet. Well, ‘crowds’ was a strong word - really, it only consisted of Yuuko’s family, Minako, a couple of over-eager locals, and various reporters who were already clamoring at a chance to interview any of the four of them. They boys were nowhere to be seen, probably deeper within the rink. Victor pushed by the reporters with a polite smile and some promises to come back out to grant interviews in a few minutes and made his way to the locker room.

The boys were already in costume - hold on a second, where had they even gotten costumes? They hadn’t had time to commission any, and Victor knew Yuri hadn’t brought any of his own. His first guess was that Minami had provided them - the boys were similarly sized, after all - but Minami was gushing over his costume with enough detail that Victor gathered it was one of Yuuri’s old ones and also, it sounded like, from a piece that had inspired Minami’s song for the day. Yuri’s soft gray trousers and muted cream and gray top must have been Yuuri’s as well, considering Victor didn’t recognize it at all. It was a lot more subdued than Minami’s black with sparkling whites and purples, and Victor raised his eyebrows at the thought of Yuri doing an actually restrained piece for once in his life.

Yuri, in the process of smoothing nonexistent wrinkles out of his pants and smiling at his own reflection, noticed Victor in that moment and flushed, gritted his teeth, and shoved Victor out of the locker room, exclaiming that judges shouldn’t be allowed to see skaters before their routines. Victor rolled his eyes, grinning at having caught Yuri in such a vulnerable moment. In the hallway outside the locker room he ran into Yuuri, who unfortunately echoed Yuri’s sentiment and suggested he go out to lunch or something. Victor wrinkled his nose and wandered off to find the triplets again - at least they were properly excited about this whole thing, something Victor needed less and less encouragement to be, but still appreciated a little help on.

But wasn’t that something? He grinned, hopping in place and pounding his fists against his thighs. He really was excited! The energy was building and he was almost as excited as before a competition - or maybe even more, without the pressure of himself competing, and finally getting to see something after two weeks of mystery. The boys hadn’t even told him what they were skating to, let alone anything about their pieces.

Well… to be fair, he hadn’t really asked or thought much about them to wonder in the first week he’d been in Hasetsu, but now he definitely did and definitely wanted to see what was going to come out.

 

**Yuuri**

 

Victor seemed excited, which shouldn’t have been surprising to see in a skater right before a competition but had been after seeing his moods over the past few weeks. Well, Yuuri smiled, their conversation last night had been pretty surprising too. Maybe he’d misjudged him and Vicchan had been right all along. He’d have to reward him after this whole competition for putting up with Yuuri’s back and forth.

The boys wandered over right as Yuuri nodded.

“What’cha thinking about?”

“Maybe after all this is over, we can go skating with Vicchan,” he replied unthinkingly.

Minami, in the middle of his drink, sprayed an entire mouthful of water across Yuri’s shoulders.

“Oi, what was THAT FOR??”

“Skating with _who_ now?” Minami asked, eyes wide.

Yuuri’s heart stopped and all the blood drained from his face. How had he not realized before then that Minami has been staying with him for the past two weeks with full knowledge of how Japanese nicknaming conventions went? How had Minami never once mentioned anything about Vicchan’s name? He waved his hands frantically, practically screeching back.

“The, the dog!!! My, my dog, the puppy. He, he likes to skate.”

“Oh!” Minami’s voice was nearly as high as Yuuri’s when he responded.

Yuri gave them both a skeptical look before rolling his eyes. “You guys are weird. Who brings their pet skating? Potya would hate it.”

“Yes… weird…” agreed Yuuri, widening his eyes and shaking his head at Minami in hopes that he would pick up the cue.

Minami nodded and grabbed Yuuri, dragging him into the bathroom and babbling about help with a costume malfunction. He turned on Yuuri the minute the door was shut, hissing demands to know whether Vicchan was named after Victor.

Yuuri covered his face, nodding brokenly.

“Please don’t tell them,” he muttered, “neither of them have figured it out yet.”

Minami grinned and whipped out his phone. Oh no, was he about to blackmail Yuuri? He began mentally preparing himself for whatever he would have to agree to to keep this quiet.

“That’s okay Yuuri!! I completely understand!! Have I ever showed you a picture of my little Yuuchan?”

Wait, what?

“Oh my god.”

Minami thrust the phone in his face and Yuuri flung out his hand, trying vainly to block himself from seeing it.

“No, no please you cannot. I can’t. You did not name a pet after me!”

“Well I got him when I was just a little kid.”

Yuuri scrambled backward, reaching blindly for the door handle. “I need to leave now, thank you, sorry, goodbye.” He ducked out of the bathroom, then stopped himself and ducked back in for a split second. “Good luck today though, you really are a good skater!”

 

**Victor**

 

Minami went first, and he was practically vibrating through the ice, he was so excited, as he skated to his starting position. Victor could tell at a glance that he still had a lot of growing to do from the little inconsistencies in his skating, but his routine did a good job at disguising it. Every time it seemed like he was maybe going to get off, the choreo changed and he managed to find his groove again. Victor nodded in approval.

It was clear Minami really enjoyed [his piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqk4bcnBqls), which was always a pleasure to watch out of a skater, he only wished that Minami would let himself fall a little deeper into it and really feel it. It looked like he was trying a little too hard to do what he thought he should do, rather than doing his steps the way they naturally flowed out of him, and it left Victor feeling like Minami was trying to be something he wasn’t.

But on the whole, it was a beautiful piece, and the step sequences were really intriguing - things that Victor had never quite seen put together in that way before, and the way they flowed with the music, it almost looked like they had the ability to make music themselves were they done by a perhaps slightly more experienced skater. Minami finished with a grin and - were those tears? Of joy, maybe, considering the relatively clean program.

Truly, he had a lot to be proud of, putting together something like this in such a short period of time, so Victor hoped that he was satisfied. Minami raced to the side of the ice and Yuuri received him with a hug, saying pretty much the same. Minami nodded and bawled harder, babbling about his excitement. Yuri rolled his eyes but smacked him on the back in a relatively sportsmanlike manner, unzipping his warm-up jacket and gliding out to take his place on center ice.

Hmm. His starting position had a lot more power and force than expected, based on the costume. Victor leaned forward, wondering whether Yuri was going to match the muted tone at all or whether he’d just made a poor costuming choice. Maybe he hadn’t been able to find something else that fit? Or maybe he was about to be really bad at matching his body language to his program. Victor hoped that wouldn’t be the case - he kind of wanted Yuri to succeed, especially after seeing Minami’s excitement. The guitars [riffed ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuKdXqfPM4g)and his eyebrows shot up.

Okay, this was definitely something Yuri would insist on. He definitely couldn’t see Yuuri picking it, but to be honest, it made a lot more sense for an exhibition competition than whatever nebulous pastoral routine he’d been picturing to this point. Yuri threw himself into the music, clearly having a total blast. Forget the choreography and music - even just the energy coming off of Yuri was levels beyond anything he’d seen before out of him. Not that Yuri didn’t usually have energy and determination, but where in his other pieces Yuri started with massive amounts of energy and spent it to get winning results, it seemed like throughout this song everything he did only served to make his overall energy levels grow. Like he started at a full 10 and ended at a 12 or 13 instead of starting at a 10 and ending at a 7 or 8. Not to say that the piece wasn’t hard, because it definitely utilized Yuri’s skills, including several quads Victor knew he could do but Yakov hadn’t allowed in juniors, but somehow even though his body should definitely have been tiring out, his mind and adrenaline more than made up the difference. It was clear that this was the perfect piece for him.

Victor’s heart raced as Yuri landed his final quad cleanly and with a huge grin on his face. This was…

This was what Victor had been back when he started.

When he loved skating beyond all else, when it was worth anything, any amount of pain or hardship. This pure and overflowing love for skating, that really both Yuri and Minami had in their pieces was absolutely breathtaking, and as Yuri finished his piece and the arena filled with the sound of the audience cheering, Victor’s head filled with a different sound entirely - the ethereal strains of a piece he’d considered for last season and set aside to work on whenever he had a block, in hopes of bringing it out this season. This was what he’d wanted for that piece, and what he’d been struggling to remember.

He thought he might be able to find it now, having seen this.

And more importantly, he wanted to try - to try and recapture that pure and overflowing love for skating that had led him down this path to begin with.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Yuri**

 

“You need a different costume for that piece.”

“Yeah…” Yuri sighed, looking down at the costume folded before him and brushing his fingers against the edges of his sleeves.

Victor raised his eyebrow. “Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t just wear your black training gear and perhaps one of the nine hundred tiger tops you’ve either brought along or purchased on this trip. Really, anything in your usual style of clothing would work with it.”

“I know, okay?” Yuri crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders. Leave it to Victor to hone in on the one sentimental thing about his whole routine and try to pick it apart. “I’m planning on changing it for the real deal, so can’t you just let it go?”

Victor bit his lip and looked like he was going to say something further, but eventually nodded.

“Good luck this season. Feel free to reach out if you need anything.”

Yuri rolled his eyes but held out a hand to shake. “I won’t.”

Victor had mostly redeemed himself from the beginning of the trip, shifting his way from repulsing back to merely annoying, especially with all those shitty movie references, but that didn’t mean Yuri wasn’t going to take him seriously as a competitor. He had to know that asking for help wasn’t going to happen, but at least he was back in the ‘nice Victor’ mode of offering and not demanding.

“Did you say goodbye to everyone else already?”

Victor flushed.

“I did. It was awkward. I didn’t know whether to—”

Yuri cut him off. “I don’t want to hear about your nasty old man crushes. Just,” he kicked at the ground, looking away. “Just travel safe or whatever.”

 

**Victor**

 

Victor dove right back in when he got back to Russia, riding high off the excitement form the Onsen on Ice and freshly inspired for his Agape piece. The structure of it was already there, it just required some fine-tuning. He was able to hash out the rest within the first week, and he managed to basically finish choreographing it before the loneliness finally crashed back in.

It started out relatively innocently: he saw a man on a motorcycle ride by with a dog in a baby carrier and burst out laughing, whipping out his phone and taking a picture.

“How would you like to go skating?” He looked down at Makka and she wagged her tail back up at him. “We could get you a TV deal: Makkachin on Ice!”

The light turned green and Victor leaped across the road, bounding like a gazelle as Makkachin attempted to jump with him. “Now we just need to teach you to twirl!! You can do a special pairs show one day with Vicchan.”

His phone was already open to message Yuuri with his idea when he realized they hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. Why would they? They’d only really almost become friends, and that on practically the last day as well. Yuuri probably didn’t care at all about keeping in contact with Victor, especially since he was coaching the competition. It was only Victor who apparently was so lonely he’d started fondly remembering a man he’d only met two weeks prior and missing a dog that wasn’t even his.

The weight on his mind grew with every step of the walk and he went to bed early. Unfortunately, it wasn’t over there. In fact, it seemed to have opened the floodgates, and soon everything else about Hasetsu was coming back to haunt him.

The first one was unconscious, or habit maybe. He was at home, doing the dishes, and he turned to hand his plate to Hiroko, who wasn’t there. He did it twice more before giving up entirely and leaving the rest of the week’s dishes sitting in the sink.

Two days later, he went to bed after the sounds of traffic had died down and he didn’t realize until he turned off the TV that the silence was overwhelmingly empty: no one else was moving around or shuffling or playing music quietly from the room next door, and no seagulls could be heard from his apartment; everything was too soundproofed. He tossed and turned for a while before pulling up a video on his phone of ocean waves and eventually fell into an unrefreshing sleep.

On their next free day he brought Makka to the actual ocean, but when he did she just stayed by Victor and watched the waves without chasing them. The seagulls eventually landed near him and he turned instinctively to see what Vicchan would do with the bigger, more aggressive gulls. He wasn’t there.

Of course he wasn’t there. Hadn’t he just gone through this with the motorcycle? God, he was pathetic.

Two weeks was all it took?

Two weeks away from home and suddenly it wasn’t home anymore? Or had it always been like this, and he’d just been so used to it that he hadn’t noticed? After all, nothing had really changed, except for the fact that the rink was quieter than before, and that Yakov and Mila kept giving him weird looks when they thought he wasn’t paying attention.

 

**Yuuri**

 

The onsen seemed… emptier… after Victor and Minami left. It was strange because it was just back to normal, really, but Yuuri’d gotten used to having a crowd around, and Vicchan definitely missed Makka. He could tell that Yuri felt at least a little bit the same way, and their mutual frustration wasn’t helping with picking out the rest of his routines.

“I thought it would be easier after the Onsen on Ice, but somehow everything’s like a hundred times harder.” Yuuri buried his face in Vicchan and groaned as Vicchan protested, shifting away from Yuuri and ending up on the laptop keyboard. He licked the camera and Phichit laughed.

“Well, I saw lil Yuri’s video and it looks like you did find that rockstar in you, so what’s the problem now?”

“The problem now is that he’s insisting on using it for his short program and okay, he’s good enough that it would work but now I have no clue what to do for a freestyle that works with _that_ , not to mention an expo.”

“That’s right, you’ve never picked your own pieces before, have you? What about all those songs that you just freestyle to all the time?”

“It’s an option, but… I don’t know, I just haven’t found one that seems right.”

“So what’s the problem with Yuri picking his other routine too?”

“Well… he keeps picking songs exactly like the other one, and I feel like that’s just not showing any more sides of him, you know?”

Phichit smirked. “Or you don’t want to have to get drunk and choreograph another routine? What, you don’t trust Drunk Yuuri?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at the phone.

“Well, as, as a coach, I have to prove myself too, and I’m just… I don’t know, I’m afraid that I can’t… I’m supposed to… Yuri has such an amazing youthful flexibility and delicate body that I feel like it would be a waste to not use it in a routine when he only has so many years left in it. Remember when I went through my growth spurt? It was terrible! Look at his gangly limbs; you know what’s coming.”

Once he got going he couldn’t stop.

“This wild flare is so great with the tiger, and it’s so great to show this side of Yuri, but I’ve also seen his Russian Fairy side, and that’s the side that the judges and the fans know and love and I feel like I just, like it would be pushing it to stretch both of his routines to something wild like this, going all in on something we’re not sure is going to work, you know? We don’t even know if the judges are going to like it, especially with an untried coach. I don’t want to…”

“Ruin his career? Yuuri, I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”

“You don’t know that!”

 

**Yuri**

 

Yuri scowled and flicked a rock at the seagull behind the onsen. It hopped aside and kept staring at him. Picking the tiger was SO COOL, so why did nothing seemed right anymore? Just because he’d never done anything but classical and ballet didn’t mean he didn’t know cool music that matched a full tiger theme, but somehow it did because he wasn’t coming up with _shit_.

And then, whenever he managed to actually find something that might potentially work, Yuuri shot down his choices because they weren’t ‘different enough!’

Potya looked down her nose at him as he flicked another rock. “Shut up, you would understand if you could see the Tiger. Of course I can’t do anything else!”

 

**Phichit**

 

 **Phichit** : oh man yuuri’s struggling

 **Phichit** : how’s victor?

 **Phichit** : do you think the thing worked?

 **Phichit** : the fire?

 **Christophe** : idk

 **Christophe** : hp so

 **Phichit** : _(…)_

 **Phichit** : gspr b1?

 **Christophe** : !! :D

 

-

 

 **Phichit** : omg leo this guy’s so hot what do I do

 **Phichit** : I’m sorry I know I don’t usually text you these things but I can’t talk to yuuri cause he’s in the middle of a crisis

 **Christophe** : Bend him over a barrel and show him the 50 states.

 **Phichit** : OMG CHRISTOPHE I AM SO SORRY

 **Phichit** : but also

 **Phichit** : WHAT

 **Christophe** : ;)

 **Christophe** : well?

 **Phichit:** [pic]

 **Phichit** : the one over my left shoulder

 **Christophe** : :O

 **Christophe** : hot???

 **Christophe** : hot MESS

 **Phichit** : ……..fine

 **Phichit** : what about the one in the red shirt

 **Christophe** : messsss

 **Christophe** : tle +bo

 **Phichit** : aww

 **Phichit** : I have no clue what that means but I’ll assume it was appropriately judgy

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Yuuri**

 

When the stress of picking out the freestyle song grew too much, Yuuri suggested that they reinstate Yuri and Minami’s movie nights. Hopefully there would be less fighting without Minami present, but even with the fighting Yuri had clearly found it either stimulating or de-stressing, as he’d kept going back. Plus, he’d found an old movie in the back of his closet that he figured Yuri would love, considering his obsession with cats.

It actually turned out to be exactly what Yuuri had needed to jostle loose his thoughts. [This was it.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXqtbLEjvhU)

The theme they’d been searching for wasn’t about pieces named after cats, it wasn’t about coming out and being a tiger all the time. He watched Potya purposefully knock the popcorn to the floor so she could settle in her preferred spot on Yuri’s lap, even though she could have totally fit without moving the bowl. It was about the duality of cats. The fierce and exciting and powerful side hunting through the streets, yes, but also the calmer, ornery, quietly satisfied cat at home.

I can see a routine to this, he realized, and finally things started looking up.

 

**Victor**

 

Eventually Victor found a fitting companion to Agape, or rather, the Appassionata found him when it [came on the radio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijKuoVoEB84) and he started crying. He threw himself into choreographing it as the world continued to grow a little bit duller each day, so slowly he barely noticed it happening.

For the next month or so Yakov kept watching him, and telling him to keep practicing, and giving feedback only on his choreography, until Victor came to him with his expo idea. He supposed for a final straw it probably made sense, considering that Yakov knew his theme this year was his feelings for skating, but honestly, when Yakov finally brought it up with a frown he didn’t even feel relief at that point, just a dull sense of, well, something. Confirmation?

“Are you sure you want to do this piece, Vitya? Are you sure it won’t exacerbate the situation?”

Victor laughed bitterly. “Did you know that yesterday I caught someone actually taking a pair of scissors to Makkachin’s hair? Trying to clip chunks off of Victor Nikiforov’s prized poodle to sell. Off of _Makka_ , Yakov.”

He paced the room.

“I go to the rink and I go home and I’m alone every night and nothing. Ever. Changes. All I do is win and it’s boring. I have no challengers. I have no friends. My life is a boring loaf of bread with no jam and somehow everyone thinks they’re entitled to a slice just because I keep winning.”

Yakov didn’t answer for a long time, staring intently at Victor.

“…Alright.”

Victor wasn’t expecting him to capitulate so easily. It left him feeling off kilter, like he was skating on a flat edge.

“That’s it? Alright??”

“That’s it.” Yakov said. “If you win again this season and nothing changes and you feel like next year will be more of the same, then we will announce your retirement at the end of the season. You may feel to dream up any surprising way to announce that you wish, otherwise I will organize the whole thing.”

 

**Yuuri**

 

Yuri stumbled on the landing, grimacing as he flung himself into the next bit of music with far too much violence than the piece called for.

“Stop clenching your teeth, Yuri!” Yuuri called as he continued into the crossovers.

One thing he hadn’t anticipated was Yuri’s complete lack of ability to control his facial expressions, especially when he was struggling, either with the physical aspects or with connecting to the piece. It hadn’t really come up before. The JWC, presumably, because Yakov had already trained him out of it. Onsen on Ice, because Yuri was so excited and that excitement mostly worked for the Tiger. Yes, he probably should have been a little more mysterious and powerful but on the whole it had worked out fine.

But Yuri’s inner emotions in no definition of the word matched the emotions of this piece and Yuuri could not figure out how to teach it to him. He whipped into his turn, snarling again, and Yuuri cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting this time.

 _“Teeth,_ Yuri!”

Minako had always said if you put the right expressions on your face long enough, your heart would follow, and if you put the right expressions on your body, the music would. Maybe neither of them had quite figured out the right facial expressions for this yet, but Yuuri was pretty sure it would not involve any sort of snarling or grimacing, so that at least they could work on.

Yuri finished the routine with a blank face and then immediately whipped around, lashing out.

“I still hate this routine, I think it’s lame and wrong and not exciting at all and why can’t we just do one of the other ones like I suggested? What am I even doing wrong??”

Yuuri sighed. “We’ve discussed why this routine is a better option than the others. Several times, in fact. It fits better with your theme, it shows off a range of skills. You don’t want to be one-sided at the competition, do you?”

Yuri rolled his eyes.

“No, but I don’t want to be whatever this crap is either.”

“Well, let’s try it with a little less… force.”

Yuri threw his arms up in the air. “It’s a competitive routine! I can’t just do it without energy because you think I need to be some sort of limp noodle - I have to put my all into it or the judges will think I’m dull and boring and not worth the time!”

“It’s not about taking away the energy or looking tired and dull, it’s about directing it somewhere else. Taking away the force behind it isn’t about looking like you’re not trying because you can’t do it, it’s about looking like you’re not trying because you’re so confident in your abilities that it’s beneath you to even hint at the effort required, no matter how much you go through. Have you ever seen Potya look like she was struggling with something?”

Yuri looked down, skating to the side of the rink and grabbing his water muttering out a negative response.

“No, because a cat will never show weakness in front of others unless it wants something out of you.”

“I just,” Yuri sighed. “I don’t understand how I’m supposed to do that. I can’t see how something like that is supposed to look.”

“Well… let’s start with not pulling a face every time you struggle with something.”

Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Like that, for instance.” Yuuri stepped onto the rink, gliding out to take Yuri’s beginning position, about two meters in front of where Yuri should be standing. “Let’s take it from the top, but this time follow me instead of trying to remember what comes next. Focus on your face and your body matching mine.” Confidence. He could do confidence, right? Well, he could fake it at least.

He’d skated the piece, and bits of it, several times while teaching Yuri, but they’d never done the whole thing in full together. He lined himself up several feet in front of Yuri and started the music, tucking the remote into his front pocket as he took on Yuri’s position.

Together they took on the routine, Yuuri catching brief glimpses as they turned and he looped around so that Yuri could still see him.

He only heard a couple of curses as they were skating, which was an improvement for Yuri, but still a few too many, so the minute the piece ended he turned around, taking them back to the start, this time facing Yuri like a strange sort of doubles.

“This time,” he said, quickly running through the routine in his head, “think of me as a mirror.”

He hadn’t done this sort of thing in a few years, but Minako-san used to make him do it all the time, switching his routines so he did the exact opposite in order to train both sides of his body equally, and his old pole instructor had done the same thing so their muscles didn’t get imbalanced. He set himself up, placing his right leg out this time instead of the left, so that he and Yuri matched.

He stopped. “Um, can we do this without music first?”

Yuri blinked several times. “I don’t even know what you’re about to do so yeah, whatever.”

Maybe it was a bad idea - Yuri somehow did even worse this time, stumbling over his feet and staring at Yuuri with wide eyes. He ended up stopping halfway through just to clarify with him, in case he was being confusing.

“Don’t try to switch what feet you’re doing stuff on to do the same feet as me - I’m just acting as your mirror, so everything will be opposite.”

“I, um, I get that,” Yuri said, blinking a few times, “do you… do this often?”

“Oh, if you don’t think it will help you I can stop!”

Yuuri backed away, suddenly embarrassed at his weirdness. He’d assumed that other teachers might do the same thing but maybe he’d been under-thinking it; Yuri probably thought he was being ridiculous.

“I just thought that it might be a good way for me to see you as you’re skating while you can still watch me, since you’re a visual learner!”

Yuri crossed one arm in front of himself and rested the other elbow on his fist, covering his mouth and nodding rapidly. When his voice came out it was slightly higher than normal for some reason.

“Yeah, it’s, it’s great, it’s good, I just, um, wasn’t expecting it. You really do this… have you practiced it this way before? Or just… trying it out now on a whim, skating it backwards?”

“Oh, I had a teacher who used to make me do this all the time…” Yuuri paused. “Well, mirrored, but going from forward to backward is just the next step, right? I mean, anyone can do it if they’ve been on skates for half a second!”

He laughed, expecting Yuri to join in but he just nodded stiffly, squeaking out an affirmative in a strangled voice. Yuuri frowned, looking closer. Yuri was always pale, but maybe he was looking a bit peakier than usual. He definitely sounded off.

“…Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need some water?”

 

 

 **Yuri** : this guy is a monster

 **Yuri** : like

 **Yuri** : i seriously don't think hes human

 **Mila** : lolll

 **Mila** : didnt you literally just fight a battle to be trained by him?

 **Mila** : serves you right to have a harsh coach after what you put us thru

 **Yuri** : no hes not like

 **Yuri** : Mean

 **Yuri** : i mean he is strict but like

 **Yuri** : mila he just skated my entire routine backwards

 **Yuri** : with nO PRACTICE

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Assignments**

 

 **Minami:** GOOD LUCK AT CANADA AND ROSTELECOM!!

 **Yuri** : thx

 **Yuri** : good luck at nhk

 **Minami** : THANKS!!

 **Yuri** : ps zoo next sunday to study cats

 **Yuri** : you in?

 **Minami** : ABSOLUTELY!!!!

 

-

 

 **Phichit** : aww

 **Phichit** : I’ll come see you guys at Skate Canada!

 **Yuuri** : Thanks!!! Talk later tomorrow?

 **Phichit** : sure thing! usual time?

 **Yuuri** : ^_^

 

-

 

 **Christophe** : [pic]

 **Christophe** : y/n?

 **Phichit** : nooo

 **Phichit** : creepy eyes

 **Phichit** : you want to get murdered???

 **Christophe** : mdrrrrr

 **Christophe** : c u 1 chi

 **Phichit** : party?

 **Christophe** : :D :D

 

-

 

 **Christophe** : prty @ rus + chi!

 **Victor** : sure

 

-

 

 **Mila** : see you at rostelecom!!!!!

 **Yuri** : mila i’m dying

 **Mila** : ooo what now???

 **Yuri** : he has NO CONCEPT OF when a practice should end

 **Mila** : ?? just tell him your tired

 **Mila** : you used to do that to yakov all the time

 **Yuri** : NO WAY

 **Yuri** : i’m not gonna give up before him1!

 **Mila** : omg relax

 **Mila** : its not like he’s the one skating

 **Yuri** : um

 **Yuri** : YA

 **Yuri** : HE SKATES THE WHOLE TIME WITH ME

 **Yuri** : STILL BACKWARD

 

-

 

 **Mila** : lolll yuris coach is such a monster

 **Victor** : really?? Are you sure?? Is everything okay?

 **Mila** : lol hes fine he loves it

 **Georgi** : why am I included on this.

 **Mila** : welcome home party!!!

 **Georgi** : how could I possibly celebrate welcoming Yuri home when mine is cold and desolate

 **Mila** : omg

 **Victor** : _(…)_

 

-

 

 **Victor** : should I ask Yuuri for his phone?

 **Christophe** : u wnt me 2 gt frm phcht?

 **Victor** : _(…)_

 **Victor** :

 **Victor** : _(…)_

 **Victor** : no it’s ok I’ll get it at Rostelecom

 **Victor** : _(…)_

 **Victor** : (:

 **Christophe** : …vid chat?


	19. Chapter 19

**Yuuri**

 

The first time he set foot on the ice for a senior competition, he froze.

The crowd loomed over him ever-higher as he stared at them, and he realized seconds too late that his music had started already. Music that he’d forgotten how to do.

He stumbled through the motions, trying to remember what came next, trying to remember how to even skate as the whispers of the crowd rose in his mind, and he just knew that everyone was judging him for not being ready. Seniors was supposed to count more than juniors; how had he ever thought he’d been prepared to handle it?

The middle of the routine took him close enough to Celestino for him to shout at Yuuri to just close his eyes and improvise the rest of it. Yuuri didn’t understand - that would make it faulty and unpolished and he couldn’t quite believe that Celestino thought Yuuri’s own decisions could somehow be better than his careful choreography, but when he closed his eyes he had to concentrate more on his balance and on visualizing his exact location in the rink, and when he started improvising he had to focus harder on the music, and the noises of the crowd eventually melted away.

The resulting score was laughable.

He didn’t care what Celestino said, last place in his category was bad however you looked at it, however close it might seem to be to the others above it, and Yuuri didn’t think he could ever show his face in Japan again, knowing the way they’d talked him up in the news leading up to this, knowing that his whole town had gathered in the onsen to watch.

The second time he was supposed to step on the ice for a senior competition, he couldn’t.

He couldn’t even make it to the ice. He made it to the locker room exit and froze until someone needed to go by, and then stumbled back and found the nearest toilet stall and locked himself in, his vision going dark around the edges and his breath coming in spotty until Celestino found him and wedged the divider between stalls over enough to get the door open, grabbing Yuuri’s hands and pulling his fingernails away from where they’d been digging half-moons into his palms. He dabbed Yuuri’s face with a cold wad of soggy paper towels and brought him back to Detroit and told Yuuri how it was a common thing, how many of his skaters had suffered from anxiety at some point in time or another, how sometimes you got one step up and everything became just that much harder but it would fade in time and maybe it would come back again when he eventually made it to the Grand Prix but they could work through it together.

Yuuri looked him in the eye and told him that he couldn’t go to his next competition, knowing without a doubt that he would fail and that he’d be letting everyone down when he did. Knowing that he was too weak to survive in the world of skating and could never face those crowds again, no matter how it came about.

Celestino pressed his lips together, nodded, and told Yuuri that they would focus on practicing and building up his confidence and he could make the call when it came time to compete again.

And they continued in that vein from there on out: Celestino looking to Yuuri with every new chance to compete and Yuuri turning away, always away, until he managed to slip back to Hasetsu to retire in relative obscurity. Or at least, that had been the plan.

Well, plans always did go awry, didn’t they?

 

—

 

_“Everyone’s bursting to see what will come out of Yuri Plisetsky, last year’s top Junior skater.”_

_“Last year? Bob, he’s been the top Junior for the past couple of years, let’s be real! This will definitely be a year of reckoning for him though, what with the surprise coach change to retired Junior skater Yuuri Katsuki.”_

_“That’s right, folks, and this is the first time Katsuki’s ever coached a fellow skater since he left the skating world after a disastrous first show right here at Skate Canada-”_

_“Now wait, Bob, didn’t he leave to focus on his schooling?"_

_“Well that’s what they said! Anyway, we’re all just itching to find out what Plisetsky saw in him to make such a huge change right before his Senior debut, especially considering how successful he was under Yakov Feltsman.”_

_“I’d say! Ending his Junior career on a world record, is there any better way to go out?”_

_“True, but it sure makes it tougher to count anything a success after that!”_

_“And I think nobody is more aware of that than Coach Katsuki, who - dare I say it? - actually looks more nervous than his skater here today. I do believe that’s a first in my book!”_

_“It’s a first in everyone’s book, that’s for sure. Speaking of firsts, we’ve also got Canada’s own Jean-Jacques Leroy here today, looking to net his own big first by sweeping Skate Canada for the…”_

 

Yuri might not remember it, but Yuuri had been to Skate Canada once before, and he could confidently say that it was the worst experience of his life. He’d thought he was doing alright with this being back in the skating circuit thing. After all, he’d been to so many of Phichit’s competitions throughout his college years, and he wasn’t even skating today so there was nothing to fear in terms of embarrassing himself, right?

The rink twisted around him as the announcers continued to discuss the various skaters.

Everyone was staring.

He kept trying to tell himself that they weren’t they really weren’t, but every time he did he accidentally made eye contact with someone new - another coach, a curious skater, a backstage reporter, it was different every time but it was definitely there. He smiled uneasily at the current one and she flashed her teeth back in something that looked more like a wince than a smile before turning away.

This wasn’t Yuuri’s competition but he was still being judged.

He’d been an idiot to think that he could just skate by under the radar - Yuri was the top junior skater in the world last year, and Yuuri was a nobody. Of course everyone would be following the scandal, waiting for him to mess up and drag Yuri down with him. Everything he did here would reflect on Yuri and his career outlook and estimation of character. Victor had as much as said so back in Hasetsu but of course Yuuri’d been so wrapped up in his own pride that he’d just figured he was too close to the situation and lashing out emotionally.

“The hell are you freaking out for?”

Yuuri jumped, whirling around to see Yuri finally coming out of the locker room.

“I’m- I’m-”

“If you’re worried about me messing up and making you look like a bad coach you can stop right there. First of all, I’m one of the top athletes in the world; I'm not gonna screw up. Second of all, I'm one of the top athletes in the world. If something happens it's clearly a freak accident. Don't give yourself so much credit.”

Yuri whipped the towel off his shoulders and flung it over Yuuri’s head, temporarily blocking his vision of the crowd. “Nobody cares what you do, so you shouldn't give a rat's ass about them either. Be like Potya - she does whatever she wants no matter what we say and she’s doing fine."

Yuuri reached up, grabbing the towel and pulling it off his head, albeit slower than he could have. Unintentional as it was, the brief moment of darkness had served to temporarily ground him. Did Yuri really think that he was afraid of him messing up out there and making Yuuri look bad? Sure he still struggled a bit with the emotions and generalized feel of his pieces, but the kid was head and shoulders beyond any skater Yuuri had ever worked with or against and there was no way he could ever be anything but proud of him.

Wait.

Yuuri’s heart sank.

Did the audience think that too? That he was afraid of Yuri doing poorly? Were they reading his own personal failure to stay composed as a lack of faith in his skater, thereby expecting Yuri to fail because even his coach didn’t think he was good enough? That couldn’t be allowed to happen! Yuuri refused to let Yuri down, to _drag_ him down like that.

Yuuri looked down at the towel, which his hands had automatically folded into the shape of a cat. Potya was a good enough example for him to take after, but not for the reasons Yuri wanted. He could never forget others entirely or stop caring what they thought, but he could emulate the proud little kitty in another important way: absolute faith in Yuri and an aura of confidence so thick that she could only belong next to someone as absolutely self-assured as Yuri Plisetsky.

Yuri and Potya together had more than enough confidence to spare, and the least he could do was absorb some of that for himself, or at a bare minimum hide himself behind their wall of pure pride. After all, if he ever wanted to pay Yuri back for bringing him along on this wild ride, then it certainly wouldn’t be by undercutting him in front of his fans.

Yuuri drew his shoulders down and back, tilting his chin up and subconsciously taking his posture back to the days when he seriously trained at ballet under Minako. Smiling a little, he suddenly remembered the last major piece he’d done - the Knave of Hearts, from the then-new Alice in Wonderland ballet. What was it Alice had said in the book? A cat may look at a king?

_Be like Potya._

That, maybe, he could do.

 

—

 

The second day was marginally better for Yuuri than the first day, now that he had the mantra ‘be like Potya’ running through his head to combat the anxiety. He wasn’t really sure if it necessarily worked, but just having something to focus on other than the crushing weight of the crowd’s expectations was something at least. Even if he couldn’t just _stop_ caring what everyone else thought, he could at least try and distract himself by imagining how Potya herself would react to things were she a walking, talking coach… or even just a cat with a coach hat on, like the chef hats Phichit had made for his hamsters whenever they’d had fancy dinner night back in Detroit. Hey, he never said it was a good coaching strategy, okay? But it worked, at least a little bit.

It also helped that Yuri himself was less composed today, as weird as that seemed, but Yuuri had always had a Mom Friend Override that had morphed rather cleanly into a Coach Override of sorts. He sighed, seeing JJ bump into Yuri, and made his way over. Clearly, that override was about to be necessary.

“—fter you, little pussy-cat. I know you like to be… what was that, ‘always behind me?’ But since you’re doing so well at staying there in the competition I’ll give you a chance here.”

Yuuri leveled a gently chiding look at JJ and placed a hand on Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri clamped his mouth shut around whatever obscenities he’d been about to hiss and sent a mutinous glare at the both of them.

“You’re grinding your teeth again,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, steering Yuri away.

Yuri flashed a fake smile that had a strong potential to send small children screaming. They’d have to work on that one too, but it was marginally better than the other faces he’d been making so he’d count it as an improvement. Yuri hadn’t done bad yesterday, in fact he was right behind JJ, but the key word there was behind, and both Yuuri and Yuri himself were slightly more confident in his tiger routine than his cat routine, which Yuri still hated and Yuuri had had multiple breakdowns about over the course of the past several months, though Minako stood fast and would not let him change it.

A couple of skaters looked at them and whispered something to each other and Yuuri plastered on a fake smile of his own, running over his last conversation with Minako in his head in a last ditch effort to convince himself that no matter what happened today, it was still the right choice for Yuri to skate this routine. And she was right - this program was like nothing Yuri had done before, and if he could just break through his mental blocks it would mean amazing things for his growth as a skater.

Letting him stop now would teach him that it was okay to give up if something was too difficult, but the little voice in Yuuri’s head kept asking what if it just taught him that he wasn’t ready to compete at all? He shook his head.

No, he couldn’t go down that path.

Yuri was stronger than him, and would make it through, regardless of how today went. As Phichit kept saying, he had years ahead of him and more talent in his little finger than some professional skaters had in their whole lives. He could do it. If he never got challenged then he would never grow and he would end up crashing and burning later on. The earlier he could teach him this the better.

Besides, this was only a trial year anyway; it was better for Yuri if he failed under Yuuri than if he did with Yakov because it would look like weakness on Yuri’s part with Yakov, but could be explained away as Yuuri’s influence now. So it was really fine if he failed now. He was just going to go back to Yakov at the end of the year anyway and he could start again with a blank slate.

Right?

Yuri’s back was growing stiffer and stiffer under Yuuri’s arm and they still had two more skaters to go in group one before his turn was up, so he pulled him aside and directed him into Minako’s cat-like stretches to get into the mindset.

“Remember your own advice today, Yura.”

“Ah?”

“Be like Potya. Who gives a, um, a shit what people think and what JJ is going to do. Go out there and be smug and—”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Yeah I get it, okay, you don’t think I’m confident. I’m fine, idiot.”

“Yes, exactly! Bring that sass to the ice.”

“That’s NOT what I MEANT and you know it!”

Yuuri’s fake smile finally relaxed into something real, though Yuri’s was long gone. Anger directed at him was far better than anger directed at JJ, where it would weigh on Yuri’s need to get a perfect score. He paused, thinking. What would Victor say here? He seemed to be especially adept at causing rage. Would he… Yuuri leaned in and winked.

“Just be a little brat on the ice, the way you want to be, because that’s what cats are.”

Yuri hissed back at him and then they both realized what he’d just done and burst out laughing. Maybe it was a little hysteric, but it did serve to calm them both down, and in the end Yuri didn’t quite manage to immerse himself in the emotions just yet, but it was nearly on par with the closest he’d gotten thus far.

Watching him, Yuuri longed for more story, for something to tell the observer what he was watching beyond the routine on the ice. It was beautiful, as always with Yuri, and of course technically sound, quads and all, but it felt like a bit like an echo in an empty room. You could hear the scene playing out on the other side of the wall, but you were lacking the picture to go with it.

He could see why Yuri didn’t win. Before he was done Minako had already texted Yuuri again not to change anything and he sighed, shoving the phone away. Did she really think he was stupid enough to do that with less than three weeks till Rostelecom? No, Yuuri was only the kind of stupid that didn’t change it months in advance, when he still had the chance. The kind that somehow thought it would be a good idea to pick a song with emotions that neither himself nor his student understood. He’d respond later. In the meantime, he had a skater to present himself to, and an explanation to prepare, just in case.

 

—

 

Sponsors.

How could Yuuri have forgotten that as a coach he would also need to talk to sponsors?? He ducked behind one of the large columns, propping himself up with a shaky arm and catching his breath as he frantically googled how to negotiate with them and what he was supposed to say. Surely he should have known to expect this - just because Yuri was an established skater already didn’t mean he was an established senior skater, and he might have had some small sponsorships in Russia but this was a whole different story.

Theoretically he knew that sponsorships were a thing, but it had never come up in the months preceding this competition, and he was mentally beating himself over the head with a stick at the idea that he’d missed such a huge chunk of the coaching experience. Should he ask Yakov what to do? He was only a temporary coach, right?? He didn’t want to accidentally link Yuri with something that could damage his image or career. But then, if he asked Yakov for help now that could be grounds for failure and he’d have to send Yuri back, and everything would be even worse - he’d look like a total fool for even trying to be a real coach. Not that he wasn’t a fool, but…

A middle aged woman walked past the pillar and did a double take, waving another man down and walking over to him as he scrambled to hide the evidence of his searches and tuck away his phone before they tried to sell to him whatever it was they wanted Yuri to sell for them.

“I know that face!” She laughed, nudging the other man. “It’s the one you had when we had to start talking to sponsors on our own for JJ!”

Yuuri’s mind scrambled for a second before it clicked. JJ…could these be his coaches? And parents, right? He pasted on a weak smile and bowed before catching himself and reaching out his hand.

“Yuuri Katsuki.”

They both smiled widely and pumped his hand one after another.

“Alain Leroy, it’s nice to meet you! And this is my wife, Nathalie.”

“Yes, yes, we’re JJ’s coaches, and we’ve actually been looking for you!”

“…oh!”

Why were they looking for - had he left something in the rink? Was this about… oh no, what had Yuri done? What did he say to JJ this time? He knew that they’d exchanged words earlier but should he have been watching him more closely? The Leroys were nodding in sync and smiling. Why didn’t they look more upset? Mrs. Leroy patted his elbow.

“We figured you needed a friendly face at your first competition as a coach. It wasn’t all that long ago when we were in the same boat!”

“Yes, we wanted to let you know that it gets easier with every competition, and also we wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me? I think you might be mistaken, I haven’t-”

“No, we’re not mistaken. We saw your boy Yuri skate and we wanted to thank you because it was clear that his routine, the tiger one?”

“It was everything to that boy.”

They nodded in sync again. That’s right - they’d been ice dancers together, hadn’t they? He hadn’t realized those habits stuck with you for so long afterward. He shifted uncomfortably and nodded back as Yuri came around the corner and spotted them, making his way over.

“We really admired that you’re letting your student express who he is. We struggled with that with JJ for so long that we ended up having to coach him ourselves because we couldn’t find a coach to do what you’ve done for your skater.”

“And it’s just so exciting to see that there’s a coach out there now who will let skaters like JJ be themselves.”

The look on Yuri’s face as he came within earshot was something that Yuuri would never forget in his life. The amount of revulsion and horror and pure old-fashioned betrayal residing there was clearly so overwhelming that Yuri couldn’t even speak, though Yuuri was sure that wouldn’t last long. He bit his lips, tightening his cheeks as much as he could to stop a grin from breaking out, and nodded at both of the Leroys, shaking their hands yet again and somehow managing to thank them for their support before making his way over to Yuri, spinning him around and directing him away from the Leroys as quickly as possible before the inevitable explo—

“Did they just compare me to that dickface? That _loser??_ THAT FAKE KING??? KING OF THE _GARBAGE??”_

—and there it was.

Somehow after calming Yuri down everything was a little bit easier to deal with, including talking to the sponsors, especially if he took a moment to picture Yuri’s clear indignation. It reminded him rather of the time Vicchan had somehow knocked Potya into his mother’s mop water, which pretty cleanly fulfilled Yuri’s theme to the last at this competition, especially considering the fact that half of the sponsors who came up to him had something to do with cat products.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.

 

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Mila**

 

Mila was running back to the rink to grab her makeup bag out of her locker when she heard music coming from the ice. She ignored it at first since she really was in a hurry, but when she got out of the locker room it kind of sounded like the same song was still playing. Strange, the cleaning staff generally didn’t listen to things on repeat. Was someone working on a routine? [The song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uplalXrTfso) started over with a low thrumming.

She tucked her bag into her sweatshirt pocket and crept down the hallway. Nobody was scheduled to practice this late, so if someone was working on a routine in secret it was her business to know. The singer joined in and she gasped as she heard the words. If someone was practicing this…

She burst into a run, suddenly praying her suspicions were wrong, never mind the sinking feeling that they probably weren’t. Rounding the corner, she clasped her hands over her mouth and sunk into the shadows before Victor could turn around or notice her.

He painted colors across the ice, each sweep of his long limbs like another streak of the sunset across the sky: dark faded blues, purples tinging on black, deep teals like the tears of a giant mourning the loss of the day. His hair caught the ambient light and drew it in until he flickered like a ghost in the darkness, his shadow climbing, clawing its way up the walls to join the others already there and refusing to let go, losing all shape of arms or legs and only leaving behind a vague sense of movement and loss. As the music rose to a crescendo, he almost seemed to pull in on himself, grasping at his head and spinning tighter and tighter in until he shattered to pieces on the rink, leaving a hundred thousand reflections of himself remaining, trapped under the ice and clawing to get out.

This was clearly a final song, and Mila’s entire body shook as the sobs fought against her need to remain unnoticed. She stumbled backward, ducking away and running out as fast as she could. This wasn’t… this wasn’t right. Victor was the rock, the pillar of skating. He was at the top of the world and yes he was getting old but Georgi was older and he was still skating? Even though she’d heard Yakov talking about something like this last spring, somehow it hadn’t registered as real in her mind until just now.

God, why did he have to be so beautiful about it? After that, she wasn’t sure if any other performance would top it enough for her to cry in the future, or if any other farewell would pull at her heartstrings so. She needed to be at the competition he brought this to, even if it took her own money to go.

 

 

 **Mila** : CALL ME.

 **Yuri** : busy rn

 **Yuri** : what is it

 **Mila** : call

 **Mila** : me

 **Mila** : victors retiring

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Phichit**

 

 **Phichit** : china was fun!

 **Phichit** : we should hang at gp too

 **Christophe** : 4u? B1sur

 **Phichit** : you text like an animal

 **Phichit** : smh lol

 

-

 

 **Christophe** : [pic]

 **Christophe** : ???

 **Phichit** : _(…)_

 **Phichit** : yikes

 **Phichit:** have some respect for yourself

 

-

 

 **Phichit** : yuuri I have a problem

 **Yuuri** : Still French Toast?

 **Phichit** : no

 **Phichit** : Swiss Roll

 **Phichit** : [pic]

 **Yuuri** : omg

 **Yuuri** : is that…?

 **Phichit** : …yes

 **Phichit** : (T_T)

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Yuri**

 

Arriving back home for Rostelecom was centuries different than when they got to Canada for Skate Canada. For one, everyone in Canada was too polite to mob them at the airport, or at least, that’s what Yuri told himself, giving them the benefit of the doubt and assuming they weren’t just losers who didn’t care enough about his career yet, which, if that was the case, he’d prove them all wrong when he finally swept Victor from his throne this year. Thinking of sweeping Victor from his throne, Yuri narrowed his eyes, before catching himself and remembering that there were cameras watching his every move.

Next to him, Yuuri wasn’t doing too great, and Yuri was sure that the reporters probably thought he was just airsick, which Yuuri also kept claiming as he got greener and greener the closer they got to Russia, but that sort of act was hard to pull off when he’d already been on a plane with him twice and even though he didn’t exactly do great while they were in Canada, he could definitely handle flying.

“Mr. Plisetsky!” One of the reporters crammed her microphone in his face. “What do you have to say to the fans at this competition who claim that you betrayed Russia by dropping Yakov Feltsman, arguably one of the best coaches out there, for an untried foreigner?”

Yuri sneered at her.

“I’d say it’s pretty damned cowardly of _you_ to talk about that ‘untried foreigner’ right in front of his face just because he doesn’t speak Russian,” he spit out, and would have continued were it not for Yuuri firmly placing a hand over the microphone as he answered another reporter who’d asked a similar question of him in English.

“Thank you for your concern. Obviously every professional skater needs to make the best choice for himself, and if Yura thinks I’m the best coach for him in this moment then it’s on all of us to respect his decision. In the meantime, I can only hope to prove him right.”

Yuri’s jaw dropped at the steel in Yuuri’s voice and he almost grinned, except that he was still angry on Yuuri’s behalf. He still managed to lose his own train of thought though, which gave Yuuri just enough time to gather him up and usher him through the crowd to where his grandfather was already waiting at the curb.

 

—

 

Yuri was slated to be the last skater of his heat for the SP, immediately after the pompous old jerk himself, who he’d managed to successfully avoid talking to since Hasetsu. Yuri’d made a strategic decision to avoid him for most of that too, after he blew up at Victor. Not because he was embarrassed or anything, but because Victor was a loser who didn’t deserve Yuri’s time anyway and you weren’t supposed to hang out with your competitors after all anyway, that was just smart. Even if Yuuri seemed determined not to hate him or avoid him, that was just because he was still blinded by his ridiculous schoolboy crush on the old loser.

The problem with avoiding someone for so long, though, Yuri realized as Victor stepped onto the ice, was that your mind dulled everything over in memory, and you forgot how good someone had to be before they started calling them a living legend.

The Living Legend.

His breath caught. The stadium shook from the force of the crowd’s cheers as Victor sailed through his short program, cleanly pulling off an immensely difficult piece as he expressed his pure and unselfish love for skating. Yuri wanted to call him a hypocrite, remembering Victor’s possessiveness in Hasetsu, but you couldn’t skate something with this much love if it wasn’t true, if you didn’t have it somewhere inside you already. The announcers agreed.

 

 

_“This is why Victor’s the best in the game! You’re not going to see another program like that for a long while, I guarantee it.”_

_“Except maybe at his Freestyle tomorrow night!”_

_“It’s clear from the crowds out here that Victor’s home country lives for their golden child. I don’t think they’ve ever been as excited by a single skater before as they are year after year about Victor, and he gives them every reason to be.”_

_“I don’t think they’ve been as excited for any other sport, let alone any other skater!”_

 

 

Listening to them, it was clear that they’d basically forgotten Yuri existed at all, stumbling over themselves to be the first to fawn at Victor’s feet like little sycophants.

His whole being clenched up at the sound of their weaselly little voices.

What, did he not exist anymore? Did he matter so little that they were just gonna call the game after Victor skated?? Did all of his years sweeping juniors and beating Victor’s _fucking junior record_ mean nothing the minute he did something for himself in order to get better and to keep representing his ungrateful country as well as he could and and—

“Teeth, Yura.”

Yuuri’s voice was quiet but it somehow cut through the crowd and Yuri finally noticed the pressure in his jaw from where his teeth had been grinding together. His hands were shaking so he clenched them into fists, glaring at the press box. Ringing filled his ears and everything else was muffled, like there were pillows smashed on both sides of his head, and he nearly jumped when Yuuri grabbed his chin and pulled his face back to look at him again. He could see Yuuri’s lips moving, but he couldn’t make out any of the words as Yuuri pulled his cheeks out in both directions and wiggled them around before letting go and clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Even his coach was treating him like a little kid in front of everyone and Russia and his Deda. He may have been new to seniors but that didn’t mean that he was an untried loser. He snarled and knocked Yuuri’s hand off his shoulder, whipping around and skating off to take his beginning position.

The [music ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuKdXqfPM4g)started and Yuri stumbled on the first jump.

 _Fuck_.

The reaction was wrong and his face was wrong and his body was wrong as he tried to find a tiger’s grace and it slipped through his fingers. He was throwing himself into the piece but it wasn’t working. He was, he had the energy, this was an energetic piece this was a powerful piece, this was a fighting piece - he was supposed to be angry, wasn’t he?? He was supposed to be…

Powerful.

He was supposed to be confident.

A confident person didn’t need to be angry because they had nothing to be angry about. Not like this caged tiger bullshit he knew he was putting out there, lashing out in fear and panic. This was all _Victor’s_ fault for seducing the crowds and shaking him. He wasn’t supposed to be so easily intimidated, not even it Victor was another level entirely over King Idiot. Tigers didn’t get intimidated! Tigers didn’t.

Get.

Intimidated.

He snarled and drew himself up, throwing his whole body into the rest of the piece and stalking through the night like a righteous fury. Maybe he was supposed to be powerful and intimidating and in control, but tigers could be wild and unpredictable and dangerous too and if that was closer to the emotions he could muster then that was the kind of tiger he would be tonight.

It worked, a little.

Enough to get in a new groove, Yuri was a professional after all. The score would be disappointing but nothing he couldn’t come back from. Yuuri nodded silently at him and clapped him on the back hard enough to practically knock him over when he got to the kiss and cry, and Yuri made it through his first day.

 

**Yuuri**

 

Yuuri glanced again out of the corner of his eye at Yuri. He certainly didn’t look okay, no matter how much he protested, but he also wasn’t exactly sure what he could do about it that Yuri’s grandfather couldn’t, not when Yuri didn’t even seem to want any help anyway. His phone was ringing anyway, so he waved them off to go to dinner and stepped aside to answer, not really paying attention to who was calling until he heard Mari’s voice on the other end of the line.

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Victor**

 

Victor wandered up to the rooftop pool deck, still not sure why he’d turned down dinner with the other skaters. Maybe if it had just been the rest of the Russian contingent, or maybe if Christophe had been there he would have considered it, but everyone he’d started with except Georgi was gone, and all the new skaters had grown up idolizing him, building Victor up as some sort of… legend, for lack of a better word, in their minds. Not that it hadn’t been nice ten years ago to be treated with awe and respect, but when nobody nowadays seemed to remember that you were a real person and struggled with this stuff too, it got old fast.

You’d think that it’d be better with the other skaters, used to their own celebrity status, rather than when he was just walking down the street being stopped to sign autographs left and right… he snorted. You’d think. Instead it just somehow made things worse, like this was his best chance at being treated normally and it was gone too.

If Christophe were there he’d probably tease Victor for running off to ‘brood beautifully,’ as he called it, but he’d also join right in and distract him from the crush of awe outside. And maybe that was what he was doing to a degree, but he personally liked to think of it as necessity. He needed to get as far away from people as possible, most of the hotels he stayed in had rooftop access or a lounge of some sort, and none of them were really in the kind of weather where people would be there, so it had become a habit. Plus, it had the unforeseen bonus of getting him as far away from the noise and smells and harshness of whatever city he was currently in, and as close to the stars and the fresh air as possible.

The deck was empty when he got up there, so yet again, he was proven right in choosing this location. Or at least that’s what he thought until he heard the harsh sobbing coming from a pile of lounge chair cushions in the corner. One of the other skaters, perhaps? He cast his mind around but couldn’t really think of anyone who’d really terribly failed and couldn’t come back from the freestyle.

Unless it was the women’s competition, he had to admit he hadn’t really followed that one.

Much to his surprise when he rounded the hot tub and got a little closer, the figure in the cushions was none other than Yuuri Katsuki himself, who Victor still hadn’t bumped into over the past few days. He paused, terrified for a moment that something had happened to Yuri and frantically trying to remember his SP, which he’d mostly missed due to interviews after the kiss and cry. Sure the kid’s score wasn’t as good as he knew it could have been, but it wasn’t like he’d injured himself or anything. Had he? Had he fallen and covered something up, only to come out later? No, no there hadn’t been enough uproar for that.

Maybe something had happened after the program… Victor gasped silently. Maybe he’d fired Yuuri and gone back to Yakov after the disappointment of the day? Maybe he’d been too homesick to want to go back to Japan?

It was amazing that a thought that would have been so exciting a couple of months ago suddenly made him feel guilty as sin now. What a cruel thing to think when the man himself was bawling his eyes out right in front of him potentially because of getting fired. And he’d proven himself fine enough at the Onsen on Ice… sure, Yuri had struggled at Skate Canada but not enough to knock him out of GP running so he was at least doing decently.

Yuuri looked up and started, making a strangled-off choking noise. Victor suddenly realized that he’d just been standing there running a whole show of emotions across his face as he stared at the other man. He took another step forward and reached out hesitantly.

“Are you alright? Is there something wrong with Yuri?”

Wait, should he not have brought up Yuri if he really had fired him? That was a really tasteless thing to do, right? He winced, pulling back his hand a little. Yuuri was shaking his head though.

“No… his, he’s at dinner with his grandfather. It’s just my, my, my dog…”

“Vicchan??” Victor dove forward, grabbing Yuuri’s hands on instinct before realizing what he was doing and instantly letting go. Vicchan was just about the cutest little doggy he’d seen, other than Makkachin, who was in a class of her own, obviously, the top tier of all dogs. “Is he alright?”

“Uhm…”

Yuuri’s face crumpled again and he looked down at his hands, flexing them in the air a couple of times before closing them around his knees.

“He’s been um, he was… playing with Potya and he, um, he ran into the street and he’s…”

Oh no. Victor sank onto the cushions next to Yuuri, wondering if he should put his arm around him and eventually settling for gently bumping shoulders, unsure of how much physical contact Yuuri would want or need.

“Is he…”

Were you supposed to say it? Were you supposed to ask?

“He’s alive but he’s in intensive care right now. It’s, it’s touch and go. They don’t know whether he’ll make it.”

Victor opened his mouth and worked it several times but nothing came out. He blinked rapidly, willing back the tears that had sprung to his eyes at the thought of something like that happening to Makka, his only companion. Honestly, he didn’t know if he’d be able to deal nearly as well as Yuuri had. He definitely wouldn’t still be here in Russia, that was for sure.

“Are you going back to Japan? If you need the money, I have, I can help out, and, and Yuri knows Yakov, he can coach him tomorrow, he, we can watch out for him for the next couple of days if you need to go…”

Yuuri’s eyes spilled over again and he looked up at the sky, blinking rapidly as the tears pulled down his cheeks.

“…no.”

The word sounded painful to get out. It probably was. Staying in Russia, halfway across the world from your best friend? Yuuri took in a shaky breath.

“No, I can’t. I can’t leave Yuri like this, he needs me. Especially after today.”

Wow. That was… Victor didn’t think he could stay in Yuuri’s position. He couldn’t even think of anyone who it would be hard for him to leave, who he would want to stay for. Even if it meant he lost the GP slot. And Yuuri wasn’t even a skater, just a coach!

He was a better coach than Victor could have been, that was for sure.

“Does Yuri know?”

“No, and he doesn’t need to.”

Victor shifted. That was smart, considering Yuri had enough pressure on him, but did that mean Yuuri had been planning on shouldering this all alone? Without telling anyone? For the first time, he wondered how much strength it must have taken for Yuuri to come back to the skating circuit after so long away, knowing nobody but Yuri and Victor himself, if only tangentially.

“Have you eaten at least?”

“…I don’t know if I could. I stress eat, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

“Well, I haven’t either but I know of a restaurant in town that serves the soup my mama makes when I’m feeling down.” He’d gone to it at about three quarters of his past competitions here. “If you want a distraction from being alone with your thoughts.”

“I don’t think I can handle being around people right now. Sorry, Victor. Thank you for the offer.”

Yuuri’s voice was flat and almost emotionless as he retreated within himself, visibly withdrawing at the idea of going out in public. Victor scrambled back, giving Yuuri space. He hadn’t even thought of that, but when he was upset in Hasetsu he’d just wanted to disappear for a couple of days straight too, and Yuuri had let him do that.

Wait, what if Victor counted as people? Was he intruding right now? It wasn’t like Yuuri thought he was anything special, as he’d made abundantly clear in Hasetsu when they were fighting over Yuri. Why should Victor insist on special treatment, just because he was famous, or wanted to hang out up here too or whatever? He jumped to his feet.

“I’ll leave you then! And… maybe I’ll bring something back? If you’re still here and want it that is… I won’t bother you, I promise, I can just leave it on one of the tables. Please just let me know if you need anything!”

He backed off quickly and made his way back down to the street below, barely catching Yuuri’s soft ‘thank you’ drifting after him.

 

**Yuuri**

 

After his conversation on the rooftop with Victor, Yuuri spent another twenty minutes or so gathering himself before it finally got too cold to handle. Once he reached that point, he scrubbed his face briskly and made his way back to the hotel room to find a way to compose himself before Yuri got back. Whatever he did seemed to work; Yuri didn’t notice anything wrong when he got back from his dinner with his grandfather, grinning and telling Yuuri stories about how his Deda was studying Japan now because he was so excited to learn about their life while training there, and how he was so impressed by Yuri’s growth and maturity during his FS in Canada that he started crying when he watched it, even though they still hadn’t found the exact right feeling for it yet. Yuuri smiled back and made all the right noises and eventually they both went to bed, or at least Yuri did.

Unfortunately, the minute Yuri’s breathing settled on the other side of the room there was nothing to distract Yuuri from thinking about Vicchan anymore, or the fact that he hadn’t received any updates in a few hours. After a few more hours of tossing and turning with no updates, he got up and made his way down to the practice rink. All the coaches had keys, and Yuuri was just grateful that he had skates as well.

He hadn’t even planned on bringing them, but Yuri had insisted in case he needed Yuuri on the ice with him during a private practice or to show his grandfather something. Yuuri silently thanked him as he queued up his favorite ‘sad things’ playlist. Skates, music, and a whole lot of emotions to work out - really, it was just like every other day of his life. Now if he could just lose himself in that, maybe he’d be able to get through the day ahead.

 

**Victor**

 

Victor woke up early the morning of the freestyle, having gone to bed early last night after checking the roof again with a bag of takeaway food only to find it cold and empty, much like the food probably was by now, which he’d left on a table anyway.

The practice rink was right next to the hotel and there weren’t any official practices scheduled for another couple of hours, so it was the perfect chance to get on the ice and just be free, as long as he didn’t overdo it. He was pretty sure he still had a key from that time he met the rink owner - those sorts were always giving him keys and taking pictures of him to hang in their offices. He grabbed his bag and his phone and made his way on down.

It turned out he didn’t have a key, but a janitor walked by while he was trying the door and let him in anyway, without even requesting an autograph. He made his way over to the entrance at the top of the bleachers, figuring the stairs were as good a place as any to start his warm-up, but right as he came through the door Victor caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye and jumped, heart leaping through his throat. He peered down at the ice, clasping his chest and fighting to get his breathing under control.

Was that… Yuuri Katsuki?

He paused for a moment, curiosity overcoming him. Was this his chance to finally see Yuuri skate? He still hadn’t seen anything since his old junior competition videos, and surely the man had improved since then. The way Yuuri held himself as he glided across the ice was already arrestingly beautiful: something he’d never really thought about Yuuri before, and his heartbeat picked up. It was probably just the rush of anticipation, since Victor always appreciated a good routine, but he took a step forward anyway as he tried to catch a closer glimpse of Yuuri’s face, unconsciously letting go of the door in the process.

It slammed behind him with a resounding echo that clanged through the rink, and Yuuri, who was just about to do something other than simply gliding along, jerked his head up and stared at Victor while still gliding forward, jaw dropping. Victor threw his arm up with a shout but it was too late and Yuuri smashed into the plexiglass wall. Even from where Victor was standing he could see the splash of blood left behind.

He rushed downstairs, only embarrassing himself one more time when he tripped over Yuuri’s bag, and would have even run onto the ice in his street shoes, but Yuuri had already pulled himself up and skated to the edge when he got there. His whole face was almost as red as the blood gushing out of his nose and he held up a hand to block Victor’s view of it as much as he could.

“I’m so sorry, I was just, um, you probably need to practice or something— not that I’m implying you need to practice because obviously you’ve got it in the bag— I mean, MY skater, Yuri, Yuri can totally challenge you, Yuri has it in the… bag… and… stop me anytime you like…”

Yuuri’s cheeks were scrunched up like a little chipmunk and Victor grinned despite himself. It was actually kind of cute the way he couldn’t seem to control his mouth, though it made it a little difficult for Victor to save him from digging the hole even deeper. He jumped in as soon as Yuuri slowed down enough to grant him space.

“I do like, actually! Maybe I can help stop you by taking you to breakfast? If your mouth is full you won’t be able to babble.” Victor suddenly registered what he’d just said and probably flushed nearly as red as Yuuri. “I MEAN, with food, of course.”

Yuuri agreed to a quick breakfast before Yuri woke up and once they got settled it reminded Victor of their beach walks in Hasetsu - the silence was companionable instead of empty, and every bit of scattered conversation was somehow easy, even when it was awkward. And even though they’d struggled for things to talk about at first, they eventually got in a groove and actually talked more than they had on their evening walks last spring.

It got even better partway through when Yuuri got a phone call, and though he was speaking in Japanese Victor could tell that it must have been good news about Vicchan because Yuuri absolutely lit up and for some reason his heart stuttered at the sight.

He wasn’t nearly ready at all to respond when Yuuri exclaimed that he’d forgotten about Yuri and needed to go, looked Victor in the eye with a blazing smile and a breathless exclamation that Vicchan was going to be all right, and ran off.

Victor watched the exit for several minutes, rubbing at his chest with the heel of his hand and wondering what on earth he’d gotten himself into.

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Yuuri**

 

After Yuri’s conversations with his grandfather regarding Skate Canada, it appeared that he was finally finding a closer state of mind to the ideal for his FS. Not enough to win, yet, that still went to Victor, but it was head and shoulders beyond his showing in Canada.

His reaction was also head and shoulders beyond the one in Canada, to the degree where Yuuri wished that they could invite Nikolai to all of his competitions. Yuri rolled his eyes when he expressed his findings at dinner.

“Well duh, it’s nice to have him here, but that’s not why I’m okay with this. I’ve always accepted the possibility of losing to the old man, there’s a reason he’s the best. That stupid prince joker jerk is just a nobody!”

Nikolai gave Yuuri a look and Yuuri shrugged in response.

“I can see it. He’s great, but not as impressive as Victor. Still, you should remember this calmness and acceptance during your FS at the GP.”

Nikolai jumped in. “Especially since you’ll be accepting your due there!”

Yuri rolled his eyes but grinned at both of them.

“Deda, you’re staying for the expo tomorrow, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

 

—

 

The nice thing about the exhibition skate was that there were no points attached to it, and so Yuuri didn’t actually have to coach at all; he could just sit back and enjoy watching the pieces. It was a lot easier to not only watch Yuri’s piece without as much anxiety over being judged, but also to watch his competitors without freaking out when they did really cool stuff.

Sitting there watching Victor prepare to take the ice with no personal stake in whether he did well or not, Yuuri was able to let himself become the Yuuri of his childhood, who unabashedly loved watching Victor without any of his personal experiences getting in the way. He grinned in anticipation as he finally to set aside the negative associations that had arisen when his own skating failures pulled him down, as well as his new stresses about Yuri needing to somehow find a way to beat the best in the business, and settled in to watch Victor skate.

He was familiar with the song listed in the program from workouts and clubs back in America, and it seemed to fit at least tangentially with Victor’s theme of the year, which he always approved of. There was just something so satisfying about a skater whose pieces all interwove to tell one great story, and he wanted to see where Victor went next after ringing his love from the rooftops and whispering his passion to the ice. Maybe the jazzy beat could finally bring out the fire that seemed to be missing from his other two pieces. Not that anything could be ‘missing’ musically, or artistically, or heaven forbid talent-wise, it was, just…

Agape was at heart about loving something regardless of whether it loved you back, with no expectations and no end, no matter the circumstances. Which in Yuuri’s mind… well, kind of implied that there were circumstances, reasons Victor had to believe that he wasn’t loved back. Maybe that was just his overly negative mind kicking into overdrive; after all, he seemed to be the only one who felt like the Appassionata had melancholic undertones (implying that the passion was unrequited as well), but if anything about his read was correct then story-wise they made for a sad existence, especially if Victor’s theme was really about his life on the ice and his feelings for skating.

It was weird to think of Victor experiencing that sort of feeling. He didn’t like it.

Yuuri shook himself as Victor took up his starting position. Anyway, the Eurythmics didn’t fit with that vision, and if Victor was for some reason doing the Marilyn Manson version, well that definitely wouldn’t match. Yuuri just needed to learn to stop focusing on his own personal biases and look at Victor for who he really was, and according to literally everyone else, that was the Living Legend. Victor had reached the top. He had nothing to regret and nothing to make him doubt his hold on the world.

Yuuri was able to believe that for a grand total of two seconds, all the way up until the [music ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EvWZQE_uIf8)started and every crook of Victor’s finger validated his darkest thoughts. It was like Victor was speaking Yuuri’s innermost language, the one he could never seem to dispel: terror and pain and grief and anxiety swirling around him in a storm of emotions.

This was the Victor that he had seen on that beach back in Hasetsu that first time, and it was a Victor that he would have hoped never to see again. His face rose cold and pale above the darkness of his costume, lines carved so sharply and deeply they sent spiderwebs cracking across it. This was the story of a man who was being torn apart by the expectations placed upon him, a man who was being crushed by the weight of carrying everyone else’s dreams.

Tears began streaming down Yuuri’s face as Victor struggled to find something solid to hold onto, some dream of his own to carry him through to the light at the end of the tunnel, and ultimately failed.

Victor was drowning.

Victor was drowning, and the crowd went wild. Could nobody understand what they were watching? Did they not know how to read the meanings between the pieces? Was this…

Was this how Victor really felt?

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Victor**

 

“Za zdorov'ye!”

Victor and the rest of the Russians downed the shots Mila had smuggled in and clapped each other on their backs. He turned around with a grin to smack his next fellow when he came face to face with Yuuri. His breath caught as his heart did that funny little thing from breakfast yesterday, and he opened his mouth to say something, he wasn’t sure what, when Yuuri grinned back and smacked Victor on the back with his free hand.

“Kanpai!”

He held his glass out for another shot and Yuri grabbed it out of his hand, handing it to Yakov instead and exclaiming that he was done. Victor’s eyebrows shot up.

“How much have you had to drink, if he’s cutting you off already?”

Yuuri laughed, a healthy glow covering his face. “Not too much, Mari told Yura to control my intake.” He hiccuped, frowning. “Well, I’ll still remember tomorrow at least.”

“You mean today.”

“Right, today! Not like when I— oh wait I can’t tell you that, you’ll judge me. Time for fresh air?”

He turned around and made a beeline for the balcony. After a moment’s hesitation, Victor followed. He wasn’t sure Yuuri should be near high railings right now, and anyway he couldn’t just tease at secrets and wander off like that! He cut him off right before Yuuri was about to lean out and rested his lower back against the railing, biting his lip.

“Why do you think I’ll judge you?”

He wasn’t sure he could, anymore. Yuri still hadn’t beaten Victor but he was getting closer every day, and it was clear that he idolized Yuuri. After this weekend, Victor understood why. Yuuri smiled up at him through his lashes.

“Because that’s what you do, silly!”

Victor’s hands clenched around the rail as the words stabbed through his heart. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Did he really have a reputation for being that way? Remembering their first days in Hasetsu he winced. Or had he just given Yuuri alone that idea? Yuuri continued undaunted, still gazing up at him with that coquettish look, and wasn’t that just a clash with the harshness of his words?

“You know, Victor, I was in love with you until I met you.”

Victor would have stumbled backward without the solidity of the rail holding him up. As it was, he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Yuuri placed his hand on his wrist and it was like invisible arms of stone grew over his hands and legs - Victor would have been rooted in place even through a tornado at this point. His heart began racing.

“You were very difficult to get to know in Hasetsu. You were a little,” Yuuri paused with a giggle. “A little shit! But you’re growing on me and I just want to let you know that I like this you better than the imaginary one.”

Victor cleared his throat several times.

“Thank… you?”

Yuuri's hand began traveling up Victor's arm, suddenly engrossed in the fabric of his sleeve. "You have beautiful shoulders."

Shivering at the light touch, Victor gripped the edges of the wide rail and glanced at Yuuri's hand, which had reached his shoulder by now, then back at the man himself.

"…Yuuri?"

His voice came out softer than expected, and he cleared his throat again. Yuuri's hand suddenly clasped the back of Victor's neck and pulled his forehead down to meet his own. Victor blinked, staring into Yuuri's eyes, and swallowed several times, though his throat remained dry.

"Victor," Yuuri's voice came out low and insistent. "Can I tell you the secret?"

Victor tried to nod but Yuuri's forehead was still pressed to his. At this point he didn’t even know what secret Yuuri was referring to but he couldn’t be paid any amount of money to make Yuuri stop. He licked his lips, glancing down at Yuuri's as he breathed an affirmative.

Yuuri pulled Victor's head down even further and brought his lips to Victor's ear, draping himself along Victor's chest in order to reach.

A strangled curse made its way out of his mouth. Victor didn't know what to do with his hands. Should he clasp Yuuri's waist? That was... that was a thing, right? One arm around the shoulders and one the hips? Would he even be able to peel them away from the death grip he had on the rail, or would they both go tumbling backward if he so much as let go?

Yuuri breathed gently into Victor's ear and his brain flat-lined.

"I am not a sexy man."

The hair on the back of Victor's neck stood up at the sensation and he sucked in an involuntary gasp. Was... was Yuuri toying with him? Yuuri dropped his face into the base of Victor's neck and giggled.

"So you see," he murmured against the sensitive skin peeking out above his collar - Victor closed his eyes, breathing shallowly - "I had to unlock the wild and exciting rock star so I could prove myself to you."

“О мой Бог.”

Victor had no freaking idea what was going on but he felt like he must be in a movie or something because this could not be real. Yuuri nuzzled his neck and Victor squeaked. He tried to turn his head but all he could see was black hair. His heart was either beating twice as fast as it should possibly be allowed to do or he could feel Yuuri’s as well, since they were still sandwiched together.

Finally he managed to unclench one hand and shakily bring it up to cup the back of Yuuri’s head, but the minute Yuuri felt a presence there he moved, jerking back to look fully in Victor’s face, and Victor was left with his hand hanging awkwardly in the air behind Yuuri, unsure of what he was allowed to do with it.

“Victor, I saw you skate this week. I am so sorry you feel that way, I never knew.”

It was like Victor was walking up a staircase where every other step was fake. The world lurched around him and he froze in place. How could Yuuri know? Nobody ever noticed a thing, not even Georgi, not even Mila, and they trained with him every day. Was there no end to Yuuri’s hidden depths? Was there no end to what he saw?

Victor drew in a shaky breath.

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Victor**

 

There was a faint beeping coming from somewhere, but Victor ignored it, drawing in a shaky breath.

Yuuri shook his head and pressed a hand against his lips.

“I know when someone is feeling the things they are dancing and that came straight from your soul, Victor Nikiforov. You may cry upon my shoulder if you wish, but please never retire from skating. I love you too much to want to stop seeing you”

Of course Victor’s biggest rival would know that he was planning on retiring. And wasn’t that a surprise, too? Somehow in his years skating competitively, the one he cared most about seeing, about sparring with, about… well, just about everything, wasn’t even a skater?

The air in the place had become suddenly closer, more intimate. Victor looked down at Yuuri, chancing the valor to gently brush his knuckles across Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri’s thumb stroked Victor’s bottom lip in return. He laughed a little breathlessly.

“If I am never to retire from skating, then you must never retire from coaching, so I can keep seeing you here.”

Yuuri blinked up at him, eyes huge and wondering through the thick glasses, then laughed, spell broken. “You’re so polite, Victor! You belong in Japan with manners like that. You can stay at the onsen forever.”

He threw his arms around Victor and stayed there, face buried in Victor’s neck. Gently folding his arms around Yuuri’s back in return, Victor wondered how this had all came to be. Yuuri continued to hug him. How long was a hug between friends versus a hug between… more than friends? Was this the Japanese way of propositioning him? Yuuri nuzzled further into Victor’s neck and Victor’s breath hitched. Should…should he stroke Yuuri’s hair? Cup the side of his face? What did he expect out of Victor?

Yuuri pulled back yet again and Victor chanced the opportunity to cup his chin, slowly drawing his face in closer.

The beeping morphed into a full fledged squeal as Victor’s alarm finally got loud enough to penetrate the dream. He jumped, scrambling for a clock and thanking god that he didn’t share hotel rooms with Yakov anymore as he dove out of bed and started throwing the rest of his clothes in his suitcase.

If only the night had ended that way.

Instead, Victor’d laughed uneasily and brought his hand back to the rail, away from Yuuri, like a fool. Sure Yuuri had still placed a hand to his lips but that was as far as they’d gotten before Yuri came out looking for them. He hadn’t been able to catch Yuuri alone for the rest of the night.

Just, just… _really???_ Leaving him alone with the sudden realization that Yuuri could see every last one of Victor’s emotions, hear every note of his cry for relief, and create every feeling of temptation within his heart and body? Victor screamed into his Makka plushy and stormed out the door to the airport taxi.

 

—

 

After three days of trying, Yuri finally answered Victor’s video call with a frown. Victor leaned forward, jumping right in.

“Why did you ask Katsuki to be your coach?”

“Why, getting sick of all the extra time with Yakov?”

“I’ve watched all of his old routines… the musicality is beautiful but he’s so inconsistent, and he never even really had a senior career. How much has it changed in the intervening years that it impressed you?”

Yuri leveled a flat look at Victor. “Yuuri is probably a better skater than either of us at this point.”

Victor winced just a little bit. He hadn’t realized Yuri’s idolizing went that far. Sure he hadn’t ever really seen Yuuri skate, unless you counted that brief moment before he crashed into the wall the other morning, but even at juniors Yuri and Victor had been lightyears beyond any of the videos of Yuuri’s old competitions. Even if he had been keeping up with training over the past several years it was still likely he’d be pretty far behind. Ignoring Yuri’s comment, he tried pressing once more.

“But how did you even find him in the first place? What impressed you so much that you decided to leave Yakov?”

“Did you see my routine at the JWC last year?”

“Yes.” Of course he had, that was why he’d been so angry when Yuri went to Hasetsu.

“That was what impressed me.”

“That was Yakov.”

Yuri sighed. “Did you see me win the JGP”

“Um…” Victor cast his mind around. “Yes?” Yuri had done the same routines at JWC, so why did he care about the JGP ones? They hadn’t even been as high-scored as worlds.

“No, you didn’t. You would understand if you had.”

Well, that was confident of him.

Yuri sighed into the receiver. “Look, I saw him dance and he was better than me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It was pretty damn easy to compare. Besides, I went back and watched video later.”

“You have video??” Victor perked up and his heart stuttered. Maybe something more recent would help to finally crack the egg that was Yuuri Katsuki. “Can I see?”

“Not of HIM.”

Oh. Victor slumped down in his chair. “I don’t get it.”

“Ugh, fine, just hold on a second. Don’t bother talking, I’m muting you.”

The sound got muffled as Yuri presumably either set down the phone or - things began crackling and clanking against the receiver - shoved it in his bag? Still on?

“What’s going on? Yuri??”

A metal door slammed shut and Victor heard the distinct ‘clacking’ of guarded skates walking down the hall of the Ice Castle. Yuri must have been in the locker room when he answered. A muffled set of greetings drifted through the receiver and he was about to start trying to ask questions again when he heard his name mentioned.

“Oi, do you know any of Victor’s routines?”

“Y-yes?” Yuuri’s voice stammered out, before he seemed to catch himself. “I, I mean, which one?”

“Hell if I care. I only have a couple of his songs anyway. What about that opera crap from last year?”

“Hey!” Victor protested. “That wasn’t crap!!” Maybe it could have been better if Victor had really let his raw feelings show through the cracks in his facade, but it had still won, and Victor had let himself express it fully in private at least once before retiring it.

“Ahh… yes. I know that one. Why do you ask?”

“I just need to see it. For research.”

Yuuri was probably blushing by now. It really was too easy for Yuri to push him around. Victor smiled a little, imagining his cheeks growing rosy. The screen rocked as fingers closed around the phone and brought it out of the bag, flipping the video and setting it on the edge of the rink wall.

Yuuri was standing in the center of the ice in Victor’s starting position, eyes closed. Victor frowned. Not that he wasn’t honored that Yuuri appeared to know his routine from last year but how was this supposed to demonstrate why Yuri’d asked him to become a coach out of the middle of nowhere.

“Yuri, what is this supposed to—”

The music swelled and Yuuri morphed before his eyes, lifting his face to the sky and dissolving into a swirl of longing. Victor choked, words lost in his throat as Yuuri completed Victor’s original movements and then reached beyond, not only expressing his emotions but placing his whole heart on display even as it was rent asunder. His musicality had been the real glimmer in the performances of his youth, but this, this took his naivete and uncertainty and anxiety and then built a full background of love and pain and loss atop it. Even without the—

Yuuri lifted effortlessly into Victor’s signature quadruple flip and Victor dropped the phone, scrambling to find it with a pained gasp. He lifted it to his face again right as Yuuri landed the next jump, flowing into the choreo segment and reaching out for an invisible lover in the same breath.

The same breath…

Right, Victor should probably breathe.

He shuddered, forcing his lungs to work again. Yuuri continued to write his hopes and fears and all that he held dear across the ice, the tracks of his skates like tear tracks down a vast, unforgiving face of ice. Victor lost himself in the swell. This was everything he’d felt, everything he’d wanted to express and been too afraid to share with the world, too afraid to bring to light. This, Yuuri not only shared, but willingly shone even more light upon, holding it up and turning it every which way, drawing Victor deeper into every crevice, every buried emotion.

He almost created the light himself - Victor could swear that he saw it glittering directly out of Yuuri’s eyes. When he finally skated closer, reaching above and past the camera with a sad smile upon his face, the light spilled out, a single tear making its way down Yuuri’s cheek.

“Shit,” a quiet voice muttered from beyond the camera.

Silently, Victor agreed. If this was what Yuri’d seen then no wonder he’d come out to Japan. He would have had no choice.

The song ended with a final combination spin and Victor caught a glimpse of Yuuri hastily wiping his face as Yuri’s hands fumbled for the camera, briefly covering up the screen. He waited for another ten seconds for Yuuri to come back up before he realized that Yuri wasn’t just covering the screen, he’d turned it off entirely.

“What? _No!!!”_

 

**Yuri**

 

Yuri drew in a shaky breath as he hung up the phone, unable to get the image of Yuuri reaching toward him with that teary smile out of his mind. Yuuri grinned and waved from across the ice, gliding over to pause the music before slowly making his way back to him.

His way _back_ to him.

“Oh, _shit.”_

 

 

 **Yuri** : you need to take victors wallet nOW

 **Mila** : ???

 **Mila** : hes not even here

 **Yuri** : i knwo he leaves it at the rink just do it mila

 **Yuri** : yakov will KILL US fi you dont

 **Yuri** : i mean it i will never forgive yuo

 

**Ivan Akinfeev, Delivery Boy**

 

The door flew open less than a second after Ivan rang with number 907’s delivery order. He made to spring back as a tall man surged out with a wild look on his face, but was brought up short when the man grabbed him by the lapels with one hand and thrust a phone in his face with the other.

“HOW DO I MAKE A VIDEO CHAT PLAY AGAIN?”

 

**Mila**

 

Mila was back at practice with Victor’s wallet tucked safely in her makeup bag when Victor came sailing in, flying past the rink and into the men’s locker room without even noticing her presence. She slowly drifted closer to that side of the rink as Yakov came down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at her while the crashes echoed throughout the locker room and into the greater space beyond.

“What’s this about?”

Mila shrugged, grabbing the side wall and bending into some basic stretches. Yakov frowned at her, clearly wondering why she was stretching again at this point in her practice, but she wasn’t about to miss whatever Yuri had just put into Victor’s head for the world. Speaking of Victor…

The man in question stumbled out of the locker room, catching himself round Yakov’s shoulders.

“Yakov, Mila! Have you seen my wallet?”

Mila gasped. _“Your_ wallet? Oh no, Victor, I found a wallet but I mailed it to Georgi at his parents’ house and he won’t be back until Sunday!”

Yakov narrowed his eyes at her.

“You mailed it to _Georgi????”_

She widened her eyes as much as she could, shaking her head. “I thought it was his, with all those rhinestones and everything.”

Victor’s phone dinged and Yakov crossed his arms with a harrumph, flaring his nostrils at the both of them. Victor turned to him as though surprised to suddenly find him there, even though he was totally still propping the idiot up. Mila eased her way off the ice to stand at Victor’s side.

“Yakov!!! What’s my credit card number? It’s an emergency!”

Yakov looked back and forth between Mila and Victor for a long second before turning back to Victor with a stony look. He clearly knew something was up and Mila briefly prayed for him to play along when she suddenly realized she still didn’t even know what they were doing this for.

“I forget.”

“But you never forget anything!!” Victor looked about ready to burst into tears. This day was _golden_.

“Hard to concentrate when my locker room is in such a state.”

“But it’s not—”

“I want you dressed and on the ice in five minutes, Vitya. I want that locker room cleaned in four.”

Victor’s eyes literally wobbled with tears for a good thirty seconds before he turned and dragged himself back inside the locker room.

“Isn’t it his night off?”

Yakov turned the full force of his Look on Mila. “Do you really want him running off and finding money elsewhere for whatever harebrained idea he’s got into his head this time? I want that wallet on my desk before you leave.”

“Sure thing! Now let’s see what’s actually up.” Mila unlocked Victor’s phone and pulled up his recent notifications as Yakov leaned over her shoulder to watch. Really it was Victor’s fault for leaving it loose in an outside pocket with the notification sounds turned on when he knew that Mila knew how to pick pockets. Not to mention the whole wallet mystery - he was practically begging them to check it out on their own.

“Господи…” Yakov rubbed a hand over his face as he read the texts. “Katsuki, I presume?”

Mila shrugged, tucking the phone into Yakov’s pocket. “Well I’m like 98% sure it’s not Yuri so I’d say that’s a decent guess.”

 

 

 **Yuri** : don

 **Yuri** : dont you DARE come here i refuse to be party to your weird seduction rituals

 

 

 **Yuri** : VICTOR

 **Yuri** : I MEAN IT

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Victor**

 

The first time he saw Yuuri Katsuki after seeing him skate, Victor didn’t know what to do with himself. With his hands, with his face, with his body…. He felt like his elbows were in the wrong place, and he didn’t know where to put his hands or, or how to stand, and everything was a mess.

Yuuri didn’t notice.

Not even when Victor tried to get him alone - it was almost like he was avoiding him throughout all the days leading up to the men’s competition, and he didn’t manage to even spend any amount of time in the same room as him until the night before the short program. Which was a dinner consisting of all the skaters, at which he was sandwiched between Christophe and Yuri and couldn’t get a single sentence to Yuuri at all.

Victor couldn’t remember seeing any other skater skate for the first time. Sure, he remembered specific routines that had stood out to him, but that impact and awe at seeing someone burst out of the ice fully formed like Aphrodite, that was new. And yes, he’d technically seen other videos of Yuuri skating, but those were from competitions years and years ago, when Yuuri was burdened by anxiety and tied down by fear. But skating like that? Free and beautiful and to his own routine no less, pulling off the vulnerability of the piece better than Victor himself ever had; it was the closest he’d ever come to truly living, second only, maybe, to their moment on the balcony at the Rostelecom banquet. And it hadn’t even been in person! His heart raced at the thought that it could ever be a possibility, and the fear that it never would, that Yuuri would disappear out of his life forever and he’d never see him skate again, never be able to go back to the balcony and finish what they’d started.

He wanted to tell Yuuri these things and more, if he could only get him alone. Why did that have to be so hard??

 

**Yuuri**

 

_“Fans with a keen eye will see that Nikiforov’s been wearing his warmups all day and now we can see why!”_

_“That’s right, Bob, for some reason Victor is wearing his exhibition costume instead of his short program costume! Is he actually planning on changing his short program for the Grand Prix, of all things??”_

_“I can’t imagine even Victor Nikiforov, King of Surprises, would be that bold, Nancy! Looking at the playbill it still lists his program as ‘In Regards to Love’ - maybe his costume was lost in transit?”_

_“That’s a fair point! For all you watchers who aren’t familiar with how this works, many of these competitive skaters pack their necessary equipment across multiple bags so they don’t lose everything. I can’t imagine someone like Victor not packing a decent backup though; this is a costume meant for a much darker piece - it doesn’t fit with Agape at all.”_

 

The announcer had a point; although, remembering the darkness present in Victor’s long program and exhibition, Yuuri wouldn’t put it past him to play up the dark aspect of Agape as well, with the silvery hands representing people taking and taking his love without giving it back in return. His heart stung.

He still couldn’t believe that Victor truly felt that way - he must have been reading his own darkness and insecurity into his pieces at Rostelecom. Besides, Victor had seemed happy enough at dinner the night before, if a little antsy. That had to be a front, right? Was Victor hiding his true feelings when he wasn’t on the ice, or was the ice part the act?

Oh god, it was the banquet, wasn’t it?

Yuuri had recognized that Victor felt used and objectified by the skating world and straight up told Victor he understood his feelings, and then still practically forced himself on him anyway… he clenched his fists in the fabric of his coat and forced down the rising nausea. This was going to be a direct call out to Yuuri’s hypocrisy, he just knew it. Victor skated to the center of the rink and set up, his starting position similar to his usual one, but with the leg positioning changed just enough to ramp up an attitude that didn’t mesh with Yuuri’s expectation for Agape.

He looked in Yuuri’s direction with an incomprehensible expression before closing his eyes and bringing his arms to his sides. Yuuri bit his lip, terrified of what came next.

The music started, and Victor melted into the motion and—

Wait - Yuuri frowned. This wasn’t Agape. This was something much more…

Victor cocked his head to the side, making direct eye contact with Yuuri, and winked.

…heated.

Yuuri wobbled, the tang of blood suddenly sharp on his lip where he’d bitten too hard. The fire that had been just about to burn Yuuri’s heart to ashes flared into something new entirely, pooling low in his gut. He grabbed the nearest thing he could for balance, but Yuri flung his hand off. He vaguely registered Yuri muttering something but the music was ringing in Yuuri’s ears and he couldn’t hear anything besides his heartbeat.

This.

This was why Yuuri had fallen in love with Victor all those years ago, and why he could never fall out of it. He blindly clutched at Yuri again, needing to feel something solid, something physical under his hand to let him know he was still awake and living in reality. Clearly Victor had just been looking at the audience in general, eyes accidentally lighting on Yuuri’s but his poor heart certainly couldn’t tell the difference.

And, well, he could dream, couldn’t he?

Victor entered the step sequence and Yuuri could see the whole story arising before his eyes, the mysterious playboy springing into the picture and stealing everyone’s hearts away. Forbidden trysts in the night: hands pulling Victor every which way as he tried to determine the right choices in this tangle of love, then finally sliding over his entire body, sensations building in a wave as he positively writhed with pleasure. Yuuri gasped, washed away in the rush. He was being carried away and he couldn’t bring himself to pull out of it - he’d happily let Victor bring him all the way to the bottom of the ocean without a hint of struggle if this was what he died watching.

By the time the music ended Yuuri was breathing nearly as hard as Victor himself and the entire audience was on their feet and roaring.

The announcers’ voices slowly filtered back through his consciousness as Victor’s eyes lit upon Yuuri’s once more with a burning fire before he wrenched them away and skated toward the kiss and cry.

 

 

_“My apologies to the next skater but I’m going to need to go home and take a cold shower before I announce anything more!”_

_“ Nancy!”_

_“Don’t give me that, Bob, I’m sitting right next to you; be thankful our viewers aren’t. ‘In Regards to Love’ that may have been, but the love in question here certainly wasn’t Agape! Someone get me a fan. You there - no, I’m not kidding around for laughs, I mean it, get me some water or something!”_

_“Well folks, my co-host may be a little off-color but every word was true. That was a much more erotic love than we’re used to seeing out of Victor Nikiforov, and I can certainly guarantee that he’s made more than a few new fans tonight, not that there were many holdouts to begin with!”_

_“My goodness, Bob, that costume really worked with this new version. I don’t think any of us were expecting that!”_

_“That’s right, those silver handprints may have felt cold and demanding in his exhibition skate but they made things downright hot today. I don’t think I’ll be able to survive seeing it again at his exhibition this weekend, and I don’t doubt that he’ll be skating one because that was—”_

_“ 118.53!!! Victor Nikiforov has just shattered his own world record!!!!”_

_“Like I said, that’s one for the history books - not to mention burned in our minds for years to come!!”_

 

 

Yuuri was broken out of his reverie by a solid whack to his back.

“Go take a dunk in the water, you dog. Just because you’re a fucking idiot set on retiring after this doesn’t mean it’s over just yet.”

Yuuri jumped and turned to consider his own skater, who held up a foot and wiggled it at him.

“Guards.”

Yuuri laughed at the declaration and crouched down to help out. For a moment there Yuri had sounded a king, before he’d realized he meant skate guards and not actual ones. The mood was fitting for his SP though, and it had served well to solidify Yuuri in the moment. He could always trust Yuri to pull him back to the real world.

Grinning, he clapped his hands on Yuri’s shoulders. “It’s time for you to break a world record, Yura. Make it the shortest ever.”

“I’ll make history ten times over, you dork, and you’d better be here to see it.”

Yuri whirled around and took to the ice, drawing himself up into his starting pose and oozing power and confidence so strongly it was practically a visible impact spreading across the ice. Who knew that all Yuri had needed to get into the ultimate zone for this piece was for his competitor to set the bar so high that nobody had ever matched it?

 

 

_“Man, he just can’t catch a break!”_

_“Five minutes, five minutes ago he would have broken that record!!”_

_“Yes, but would you rather break it and barely get any chance to celebrate before it’s snatched away again, or save yourself the excitement and ensuing disappointment?”_

_“That’s a tough one, Bob, but a record is a record to hold, even if just for a bit, and just listen to the screams of this crowd!!”_

_“Well Yuri definitely holds a record in my heart tonight, that’s for sure!”_

_“That and the junior world record from last year, which hasn’t even come close to being broken this season.”_

_“Wow. This kid is definitely going places.”_

_“You got that right.”_

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Yuuri**

 

Yuuri paced his hotel room as Phichit tossed a plush hamster doll up and down from his spot lying on the bed. He’d been anticipating this weekend for ages, but now that it was almost through he didn’t know how to deal with it.

“What does Yuri think?”

“I’ve been avoiding the conversation. I know he wants me to keep coaching him after this but he hasn’t even won anything yet under me, I don’t understand.”

“Oh my god Yuuri, you can’t just avoid your own skater!”

Yuuri whirled on Phichit, almost ready to cry. “I can if it’s what’s best for him!”

Phichit sat up with a glare and opened his mouth but a knock sounded on the door, interrupting whatever he was about to say. Yuuri went to the peephole and then whirled around, slamming his body in front of the door as if the two locks weren’t already enough.

Phichit rushed to join him at the door, trying to look through the peephole as well. “Who is it???”

Yuuri frantically gestured for him to keep his voice down, hissing back in a voice bordering on hysterical.

“It’s Victor!! What is he doing here??”

Phichit’s jaw dropped. “Yuuri everyone saw his short program. Everyone saw that look he gave you. What do you THINK he’s doing here?”

Yuuri dove forward and clamped a hand over Phichit’s mouth.

“Keep your voice down, he might hear you! It’s probably just because he knows I’m retiring, I’m sure Yakov’s told his whole team by now.”

A knock sounded again and they burst into a silent scuffle for control of the door knob. Eventually Yuuri won, wrapping Phichit’s arms in a wrestling hold Mari used on him all the time.

“If you don’t dump me for this date I will kill you myself,” Phichit hissed. Yuuri shook his head and a dangerous light came into Phichit’s eye as he opened his mouth.

“ONE MINUTE, VICTOR, I’LL BE RIGHT THERE!!!”

He smacked his head into Yuuri’s nose and dove around him to disengage the handle just enough to set the door ajar, rolling into the coat closet right afterward and leaving Yuuri sitting on the floor in front of a very confused Victor.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Yuuri answered faintly. “Shall we step outside to chat?”

Victor’s face lit up. “I haven’t had dinner if you haven’t!”

“…Sure.”

A goodbye at dinner was no different from goodbye here in the room, right? At least if they were in public Yuuri wouldn’t be tempted to cry when he walked away from skating for the final time.

 

**Victor**

 

Dinner was… so much more awkward than Victor had expected it to be. Every time he thought of something to say he remembered something else from the banquet or Hasetsu or anything else and it got lost on the way out. Every time he tried to make eye contact Yuuri looked away. Surely he knew that Victor’s program had been a direct shout-out to him, a response to the banquet and the video of Yuuri skating Victor’s routine?

Or…

Oh god, what if Yuuri did know it was a response to the banquet and that was why he was avoiding Victor? All he’d said was that he knew Victor was retiring - every single iteration of the kiss that never happened had just been in Victor’s dreams. His stomach dropped.

Of course Yuuri was avoiding him. Who wouldn’t avoid some pushy lunatic who suddenly showed up with overly sexual routines as a response to a simple conversation at a public banquet?? He was probably just biding his time until Victor retired, praying that he wouldn’t do something else overly outlandish before he could get away for good.

But what about Stay Close To Me, then? Why would Yuuri know Victor’s routine if he didn’t care at least some bit for him? Why would he show Victor?

Victor mentally whacked himself in the head. He hadn’t shown Victor though, had he? He still didn’t even know Victor’d seen him skate. And why couldn’t he learn a routine that spoke to him, regardless of who’d created it?

Their meals arrived before either of them managed to get a word out. By some mutual decision they both dove in, eating methodically in another attempt to avoid talking just yet. By the time Victor worked up the courage to say something the check was already on its way.

“I—”

Yuuri’s head flew up.

“I just wanted to say goodbye,” he finished lamely. Hopefully that was bland enough that it wouldn’t come across as Victor pushing his unwanted advances on Yuuri yet again.

Yuuri grimaced - or smiled, Victor couldn’t tell. It was very twitchy.

“It was only ever temporary anyway.”

Victor’s jaw dropped and Yuuri sputtered for a moment, tacking on a “didn’t you know that?” as though it helped. Of course he knew that his career was temporary, all skaters did, but it still stung to hear it spelled out so bluntly. It still hurt to actually reach the end.

Victor bit his lip, preparing to slide his public mask on, shake Yuuri’s hand, and leave, as Yuuri clearly wanted. He swallowed a few times, working up the act, the ever-present smile. He’d just about succeeded when Yuuri had to ruin it by reaching out toward Victor, a look of concern on his face.

“Victor?”

That was the worst part, really. Even though Yuuri didn’t want him in that way, he still had to be polite and caring and just drive the knife in further. Unless that was just an act too - skaters had to be good at those, after all.

But what if it wasn’t?

Could Victor live his life knowing he hadn’t at least tried to forge one last connection with Yuuri? That he hadn’t made any concrete attempt to even discuss it in real words and not just skating and implications?

He caught Yuuri’s hand before his mind could stop him. “Maybe… maybe I can come to Hasetsu for a little while?”

You couldn’t be any more clear than that, right? He’d have a lot of free time after he retired, after all, and Makka would probably appreciate an extended vacation with Vicchan as well. Yuuri’s eyes were wide and he was already shaking his head, and with his next sentence he finally sliced Victor’s last hope off at the bud.

“No, no, please don’t! I wouldn’t be a good fit for you. I think it’s best if this experiment just ends as it should.”

Ex…

Experiment?

Was that what Yuuri thought of Victor? Just another idol to appreciate from afar and reject once he saw the real parts hidden inside? The thoughts swirled up, threatening to overwhelm him as Victor fought to keep composed on the outside. Composure was all he had left after all, wasn’t it?

It must have been, because the next time he focused his eyes on the opposite side of the table, Yuuri was gone.

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Victor**

 

Victor woke up on their free day between skates with red eyes and an empty soul. The eyes were easy enough to fix, the soul less so. His inner cynic sneered at him for trying at all. At least the pain would fit with the Appassionata. There was a reason he’d chosen that piece, and the chance of passion with Yuuri dangled before him and torn away would just add layers to themes of love and loss that already resided in his life thus far.

Victor wasn’t always a professional because he wanted to be. Sometimes it was just because he had to. He only wished he didn’t have to take an experience and incorporate it into his skating for once in his life.

Couldn’t he just grieve without somehow improving and being glorified for it, knowing in his heart of hearts that the universe was clearly mocking him?

 

**Yuri**

 

There was definitely something off about Victor when Yuri saw him at breakfast.

For one, he’d clearly been crying. Maybe it was something about being in the modeling business, or knowing Georgi for too long, but Victor had never known exactly how to hide his tears without going overboard. He rolled his eyes and dragged him into the bathroom to fix it.

Which brought him to the second thing that was off about Victor. He still hadn’t said more than two words beyond giving Yuri a puppy dog look every once in a while and giving himself a Potya sneer in response. Once he stripped the runway makeup he stepped back and handed Victor a wad of paper towels, finally asking what was up. It was only self-preservation, after all. He didn’t want Victor bursting into tears while he was trying to reapply the makeup, or getting snot all over Yuri’s shirt.

And he was only helping with the makeup because he didn’t want any rumors or suspicion at all that his rival hadn’t been top form when he beat him tomorrow anyway.

The tears went on long enough that Yuri ended up locking the bathroom door as a precaution. To hell with the people who needed the other stalls; they could find another floor. Finally Victor recovered enough to explain that he had somehow ruined his one opportunity at love and he was such a huge idiot that this was where it had gotten him. Not that Yuri disagreed with the idiot part, but as far as he could tell Victor hadn’t had any opportunities for love beyond Yuuri and that was very much still on the table.

“What the fuck are you on about?”

Victor blew his nose on the paper towels with just about the loudest honk in history and Yuri rolled his eyes, making a mental note to cover that redness up as well when he finally reapplied Victor’s makeup.

“Yuuri told me back in Russia that he’d been in love with me and fallen out of love with me in Hasetsu. Because I ruined it!”

Yuri blinked. “You mean that he was in love with the idea of you, a thing which you’ve made abundantly clear throughout all the years that I’ve known you that you HATE, and he started getting to know you as a real person instead?”

Victor shook his head. “I asked if I could come visit him and he said he never wanted to see me again!”

Okay, that definitely didn’t sound like Yuuri.

“What did he say, exactly?”

Victor’s garbled explanation still didn’t sound like something Yuuri would actually mean, and when he got to Yuuri’s hotel room to fact check the story, Yuuri himself was waiting there, pacing and wringing his hands. Yuri rolled his eyes at their complementary uselessness. At least Yuuri knew enough about makeup to cover up the evidence on his face, though he hadn’t done anything to eliminate the mounds of balled up tissues scattered around the hotel room.

“How did your date with Victor go last night?”

Yuuri flushed. “It wasn’t a date, Victor would never… I’m just, I’m not anywhere near his level. He wouldn’t want me.”

“Right… so what exactly happened?”

“Yura, he asked if he could come to Hasetsu after I stop coaching you! I, I don’t understand why, I mean, he’s the top figure skater in the world, what do I have to teach him?? And I already stole you from Yakov for a whole year, I could never do that to Victor as well. I don’t understand why he’d want to come train with me when I’m just a nobody coach who—”

“Whose first ever student made it all the way to the Grand Prix and is about to beat Victor himself?” Yuri interrupted.

“Yura, you know that you have the most potential of any skater in the world right now. You would have been fine with or without me.”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed. Than any skater in the world right now. The words kept running through his head as he considered Yuuri. Any active skater in the world right now, yes. But what about the inactive ones? By now Yuuri could do all of Yuri’s jumps, even the ones he hadn’t known yet when he came to Hasetsu.

Even though it was strange for a skater to teach his coach, it had been a good stress release and an exercise that they’d practiced every once in a while to help Yuri fully grasp the concept - teaching something was the best way to make sure you knew it all the way through.

“So let me get this straight,” he said, jumping back into the conversation. “Victor asked if he could come to Hasetsu, and you said, exactly—”

“I said no! That I think this should end gracefully, like it’s supposed to!”

“I… see.”

He opened his mouth a couple of times, trying to figure out how to explain to Yuuri what he’d done wrong, but then he decided that explanations weren’t really necessary, it wasn’t like he was gonna listen anyway. This required a firmer touch anyway.

“I’m gonna go out for a bit. I’ll be back later.”

He ducked out of the room, leaving Yuuri to stew alone in his weird tangled misunderstanding with Victor, and called up Yakov. He had his own problem to solve, and if they couldn’t deal with theirs he might as well fix that too while he was at it.

“I have a proposition for you.”

 

—

 

By lunchtime he was meeting with Yakov in person to hash out the details, missing out on all the fun of a free day, which he’d been planning to spend with Otabek after their adventures earlier this week. Yakov couldn’t just agree with things over the phone like a normal person, he always had to meet face to face and talk out offers and counteroffers. Ugh. Anxious to get this over with, he wasted no time when Yakov sat down at the table.

“I don’t want to come back to you at the end of this year unless you consider taking Yuuri on as a student as well.”

Yakov raised an eyebrow.

“And you think he would be a good candidate to skate under me?”

“Look Yakov, I know that Victor thinks I’m an idiot who ran off with some talentless hack to learn, but you’ve seen what I can do this year, you’ve seen what he taught me. He does it all too! He knows every jump that I know and he can do my whole routine.”

“Yes, but does Yuuri want to compete? Would he even say yes?”

Yuri clenched his fists, crossing his arms and looking away. Yakov had a point, loathe he was to admit it. Yuuri would probably never go along with it. But he had to try, right? He couldn’t just let someone this amazing drift away from skating forever. Plus it would always grate at him once he was crowned the best, knowing that he hadn’t been competing against everyone who could truly challenge him. He didn’t want to always wonder if it was only luck of the draw, or the forfeit or whatever, that he was winning. Yakov’s face remained impassive as he watched Yuri, but something about it suggested that he was smiling. It was super annoying, was he laughing at Yuri or what??

“I have a counteroffer for you.”

Yuri gritted his teeth. As expected.

“Beat Victor tomorrow and I won’t just consider it, I’ll make it happen regardless of any arguments Yuuri might have against coming back. I’ll take him on immediately, and even add the title of assistant coach if he wishes to continue to give advice on the areas where he excels.”

Yuri’s jaw dropped.

Was he—

Was he serious???

Never in a million years had he expected this outcome. Sure, maybe Yakov would have agreed to asking Yuuri even if he was gonna turn it down, but actually making it happen? Not that he doubted Yakov could, that would be stupid considering it was Yakov they were talking about, but this was ridiculous. All he had to do was win and Yakov would make all of his dreams come true??

Yakov winked. “I’ll be cheering you on, boy.”

If it was possible, Yuri’s jaw would have dropped even further. He shook his head, wondering if he’d heard right or if there was just something in his ears. Yakov was actually cheering him on over his own skater? Yuri made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh if he’d had any control whatsoever.

Yakov was finally, actually admitting that Yuri was his favorite, and all he had to do was win and he got to keep everything he ever wanted and more? He stared at Yakov, unable to keep the grin off his face. With a prize like that as motivation, this would be so fucking easy Victor wouldn’t know what hit him.

“Oh, believe me, _I can do that.”_

 

**Yuuri**

 

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Yakov said gruffly. “It has come to my attention that we have some things we need to talk about.”

Yuuri blinked at him as his mind ran through a hundred different things at once. He’d assumed this meeting was about Yuri’s hand-off back to Yakov - they’d made that agreement before this all started, that this was just until the GP, but if not, then what was this about? He couldn’t actually agree with Yuri that he should keep coaching him, right? They hadn’t even won any gold medals yet!

“Yura is very fond of you,” Yakov continued. “He wants you to come with him to Russia when he comes back.”

Yuuri’s mind flat-lined for a split second.

“He wants me to what? I, I don’t understand… Like, as a cheerleader? As, as an…”

“An assistant coach and choreographer, yes,” Yakov said. “And also a competitor.”

If Yuuri had not been sitting down at that very moment he would have collapsed directly to the floor. As it was, he was grateful that his had both a back and arms and was pulled all the way up to the table, or he would have fallen sideways or backwards out of it with no doubt whatsoever. Yuri actually thought that Yuuri was good enough to come back and skate? That Yuuri would want to compete? Was this a joke somehow? Why was Yakov bringing this up at all? Surely he couldn’t have accepted Yuri’s demands, it was absolutely ridiculous to even think about.

Yakov clearly could tell that Yuuri was in no shape to respond, because he continued after giving him a few moments to calm down again.

“I’ve seen your audition videos and I accept.”

Or not. Yuuri really didn’t know what was going on now. Distantly he heard his own voice respond.

“…Vid, videos? I don’t… what do you….”

Yakov simply grunted in response and pulled out his phone, laboriously picking over the buttons to pull up an email he had saved.

“These videos were provided me by Celestino Cialdini. They are you, are they not?”

“Ah…”

They looked like a bunch of practice videos - he wasn’t wearing a costume in any. The thumbnail for the bottom one looked scarily like the one Phichit had sent him at the beginning of this whole mess. Yuuri’s head drained of all the blood and air it could possibly need. He blinked several times and tried to remind himself to breathe in and out. Yakov was still talking.

“…and Yura has provided me with a few recordings of your practices together as well. I agree with him that your talent level is on par with any of my top skaters. I have contacted your current coach—”

“Current coach?” Yuuri said faintly. “I don’t have a current coach—”

“Celestino Cialdini,” Yakov cut him off, “as you have never officially retired from professional skating, and have only taken a temporary break for school. Having moved back to Japan, I think that we can safely assume that your schooling is over, and therefore it is time to return to competitions.”

“N-no that’s not… we didn’t, I mean, I never…”

“Celestino has kindly passed his side of the contract on to me. I have the paperwork right here; all I need is for you to sign and you can come familiarize yourself with my rink until the world championships, after which we will begin your training in earnest.”

“…Is this a joke? Are you, am I being punk’d? I don’t under— I’m, I’m done. I don’t have the mental strength to be a competitor.”

“Bullshit,” Yakov replied. “You spent this entire year with the world’s eyes on you and you not only did fine, but also somehow managed to keep Yuri’s tactlessness under control as well. This is the next logical step in your career progression.”

…the next logical step? Something about that didn’t seem right, like there was another one more logical, but Yakov was going on so strongly that Yuuri couldn’t concentrate enough on it to figure out what.

“And they’re not just going to leave you alone this time if you go back to Japan, so you might as well come skate. Sign here.”

Yuuri gaped at him for a full minute while Yakov waved the pen around in his face. Finally he came to his senses enough to snap his mouth shut, taking the pen and firmly setting it in front of the other man.

“I’ve made my decision, the answer is no. I can’t handle it, I’ll just be an embarrassment to you.”

Yakov drew himself up with a thunderous expression. “Do you think that you are a better coach than I am?”

What?? Yuuri waved his hands frantically in denial. “Absolutely not, no, you’re the best coach out there! That’s why I’m trying to give Yuri back to you!”

“So you admit that I know more than you do about this.”

“Yes, of course. I, I respect your decisions so tremendously.”

“And yet you will not respect me in this—” Yuuri opened his mouth to protest and Yakov smacked his hand on the table. “—Silence! You are not ready to retire. I’ve seen the look on your face in these videos when you’re skating. I’ve seen what you can do, and I’ve seen the strength that you’ve demonstrated as Yuri’s coach this year. If you retire now it will be a mistake you regret for the rest of your life, and by the very act of retiring you will be declaring to me that I am a stupid old man who doesn’t know what he’s saying and should not be a coach anymore.”

Yakov sat back and crossed his arms decisively. “If you respect me as a coach you will respect what I say, and what I am saying here is that I know better than you whether you should be skating right now. The answer to that question is yes.”

Yuuri sunk as low in his chair as he could go. He didn’t understand what was going on. Why was Yakov fighting so hard for him to come back to skating? Hadn’t any videos from his disastrous first senior season been included in the set?

“But… but I tried it already, and it didn’t work out.”

“Celestino tells me that you have anxiety, is that correct? Clinical anxiety?”

“I mean, yes, but what does that have to do with it?”

“So you admit that your brain likes to tell you untrue and mean things about yourself. And yet you’re still willing to listen to that over me, a man who has been at the top of the figure skating world for sixty years now, both as a skater and a coach.”

Yuuri stared at Yakov.

“I think we can both agree that I know more than the monster inside your brain. So, now is your chance to stop listening to it and start listening to your coach, because I know better.”

Because he knew better.

Because it was the coach’s job to know better.

Hadn’t he told Yuri the exact same thing when he tried to argue against tomorrow’s piece last summer? Hadn’t Minako told him the exact same thing when he tried to argue against it? That as a coach it would be irresponsible to let Yuri not skate it? And that if he couldn’t trust himself he had to trust her?

If he could do that with Minako, why not with Yakov?

If he could deal with the crowds at Skate Canada for Yuri’s sake, why not for his own sake?

…If he could see Victor again without dragging him down, why not?

“Alright, I’ll do it,” Yuuri said. “Give me the pen.”

 


	30. Chapter 30

**Yuuri**

 

Whatever had happened yesterday seemed to have blown Yuri’s block wide open - he glided onto the rink like he was [coming home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXqtbLEjvhU), exuding satisfaction and belonging throughout the whole routine, as though he already knew he’d won and yet he’d deigned to show up anyway and let others watch because it brought them mutual happiness.

Every edge was clean and balanced, every leap looked completely effortless, like it would be impossible for Yuri not to land on his feet, and in fact he could even spin three more revolutions if he wanted to. It was the epitome of everything they’d worked toward, the pure embodiment of a cat at home, and Yuuri burst into tears.

He was crying so hard that he never even saw Victor’s routine, though he heard the announcers and crowd growing louder and louder as Yuri struggled to get out of his clutches and run to the rink to watch, and when the scores rang out he didn’t even follow until Yuri screamed in his face and finally threw his arms around Yuuri in return.

The score margin was .02, and Yuri was taking home the gold.

That, and a new world record of his own.

They were swarmed with reporters for so long that Yuuri didn’t even know what time it was when the crowd suddenly shifted to reveal Victor standing there with wild eyes.

 _“Is it true??_ Are you coming to train with Yakov next year? To compete??”

Yuuri laughed and nodded, somehow shaking his head at the same time. “Yes!”

He still couldn’t believe it. Struck by a sudden fear, he lunged forward, grabbing Victor’s hands.

“Are you retiring?”

Victor clutched his hands like the only lifeline in a storm, eyes wide. “No, no, absolutely not, never in a day. I—”

Yuuri’s phone, which had been beeping insistently at him throughout his last few interviews, started ringing. The texts had mostly been from Phichit but the phone call was from Yakov. His hands jerked of their own accord out of Victor’s, flying to cover his mouth.

“Oh no, I’m supposed to be meeting with Yakov again! We’ll talk later? Please?”

Victor nodded, opening his mouth, but Yuuri missed whatever he was going to say, already answering the phone and rushing out.

 

 

**Victor**

 

 **Victor** : CHRIS I NEED YOU NOW

 **Christophe** : savapa?

 **Christophe** : oqp

 **Christophe** : [pic]

 **Victor** : Is that the Thai skater?

 **Victor** : he can come too

 **Victor** : I still need you

 **Christophe** : (…)

 **Victor** : DO YOU WANT ME TO RETIRE OR NOT

 

**Phichit**

 

 **Yuuri** : Sorry my meeting with Yakov was longer than expected!

 **Yuuri** : Do you still want to hang out?

 **Phichit** : Awww sorry…

 **Phichit** : I went to bed >_<

 **Yuuri** : Oh good I’m tired anyway… today was wild!

 **Yuuri** : SO much to talk about tomorrow.

 

“Who’s that?”

“No one, we’re good! Have we discussed lighting yet?” Phichit tucked his phone away, looking up at Chris and Victor with a grin. Victor shook his head as he jumped into another flying sit spin so Chris skated over, already gesturing to various places around the ice.

Apparently he had a friend working tech for the show and a decent expectation for being able to add the right colors and changes with the music, and by the time they hashed a solid plan out Phichit was wishing he had this kind of input for his own exhibition skates as well. Victor was still completely engrossed in planning out his jumps and looked enough like he was on a role when they looked over, so they wordlessly agreed not to interrupt him and instead moved toward the edge of the rink to grab water and text Chris’s friend about the lighting.

Phichit eyed Victor, in the process of a quad flip. “He does know it doesn’t have to be hard, right? It’s just an expo.”

Chris shrugged. “It’s Victor, and he has someone to impress. On that note, shall we be worried about the man of the hour interrupting and attempting to pull you or our dear friend away?”

“Nah he’s good, he went to bed. How about you, who were you supposed to be meeting at that bar?”

“Oh nobody, really. There’s this junior coach who wanted to take me out but last time we tried to hook up he had this weird fetish about washing his shoes and he wasn’t nearly attractive enough for that. Clearly, it was destiny to run into you, even with Victor interrupting us.”

Phichit stumbled, clutching at Chris’s shoulder for balance. He responded by wrapping an arm around Phichit’s waist and pursing his lips. They really were gorgeous lips. He was wearing tinted gloss with a bit of glitter in it. Phichit could get lost forever trying to count the individual sparkles.

“Are you alright, mon vilain?”

Phichit blinked and shook his head. Right, the fetish guy. The _junior coach_ with a _shoe washing fetish_. He sent out a prayer to anyone listening that his suspicions were correct.

“Does he… look kind of like Victor?”

Chris laughed. “Shall I be glad you don’t find Victor attractive? He does, but it appears my type skews more toward the petit mignon.” His arm was still around Phichit’s waist. His gaze sharpened and his arm tightened, drawing Phichit closer.

Phichit froze.

He’d been about to laugh, right? He licked his lips. Right. Why was that, again? He was suddenly acutely aware of the exact location of every part of his body. He gulped. And Chris’s. Chris raised an eyebrow, bringing his free hand up to Phichit’s chin.

“Are you telling secrets over there?”

Phichit blinked. Chris rolled his eyes (and hips, Phichit distantly noted), shouting over his shoulder at Victor.

“If we told you, it wouldn’t be a secret!”

He dropped his eyelids and flashed a smoldering look down and dragging it back up to Phichit’s eyes, continuing in a much lower voice, “and we _will_ finish this particular one later.”

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Yuuri**

 

Victor grabbed Yuuri’s hand before he took to the ice for his exhibition skate, rubbing a thumb across the delicate skin at the base of his wrist. He was wearing his silver and blue Agape costume instead of the black one from two days ago, and he stared into Yuuri’s eyes for a second, searching for something within and apparently finding it, as his smile grew blinding.

“This is for you, just to be clear.”

The [song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uNS69SFe2KM)that started up was nothing like the one from Rostelecom, and as it registered in Yuuri’s brain he laughed, remembering their days back in Hasetsu. Somehow Victor had managed to find something he knew Yuuri would recognize, that still fit with his theme, lifting it from darkness into the hope and joy Yuuri had dreamed it could become.

Victor dropped one knee to the ice, scooping his hand low and then lifting it up to the stars along with the music, swooping around as Yuuri caught a glimpse of a grin so wide it was almost shaped like a heart. For a brief moment they locked eyes, until Victor winked, spinning into the next part of his routine. Yuuri’s jaw dropped.

“What. The fuck.” He heard softly from next to him as Yuri stared at the ice. Yakov, on Yuri’s other side, grunted.

“Don’t ask me, I’ve never seen this before in my life.”

Victor spun around, pointing directly at Yuuri and carrying his heart back with him as he trailed away, somehow sensing it and clasping his hands to his chest with another blinding grin before kicking into his signature quad flip as the lights changed and started wildly flashing around the stadium.

Yakov looked up. Yuuri couldn’t look away.

“Where is this coming from??”

A man Yuuri vaguely recognized as Christophe Giacometti’s coach stepped up next to them with Celestino in tow.

“I believe I can provide an answer to that one,” he said, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head ruefully.

Celestino clapped a hand to Yuuri’s back. “I always told you you’d be back! Looks like your future training mate is excited as well! By the way, has anyone seen Phichit?”

Yuuri blinked, still watching Victor in a daze. Excited was one was to put it - this Victor was positively glowing. He was confident he’d never seen him this radiant before, and it was… he shook his head. It was for him? He was glad Celestino’s hand had stayed on his back because somehow Yuuri was sure he’d float away if not for something tethering him to the ground.

Victor finished and the crowd went wild as he skated directly toward Yuuri again.

Yakov grunted. “Hopefully you’ll be a good influence on him like you’ve been on Yuri and I won’t see this kind of nonsense all the time anymore.”

Yuri unzipped his warmups, preparing to go on the ice. “Good luck with that, he’s never gonna calm down.”

Yuuri blinked.

And where had this costume come from?

 

**Yakov**

 

After the crowds died down Yakov found himself alone by the ice, his skaters both new and old off celebrating somewhere together. He’d missed updating Celestino in person in all the rush of the day, but he pulled out his phone anyway, scrolling back to an email from nearly a year ago.

 

> _To be honest, my greatest dream is to get that boy back on the ice again._

 

Nodding his head, he finally allowed himself to smile, punching each letter in one by one.

 

> _Done._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this!!! It's been a wild ride and I hope you enjoyed yourselves :)
> 
> Thank you also to my wonderful artist, Twigs, without whose encouragement I would be far far behind, and whose art my piece would be the lesser for! Check her out as twiglightdragon on tumblr as well, the link to which I'm not sure I'm allowed to post here but it's like 2am so I will double check that in the morning!!


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